Dis Papa
by Capitaine Pickle
Summary: AU: France in the 17th century. Francis, a marquis, has been living freely for years now. One day, a young child is brought to him and is said to be his own.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia... GASP.

**Rated T : **To be sure.

**Note:** This story will most likely be divided in two separate fics: Part one being Matthew's childhood with France (with lovely fatherly love !) and the second part being Matthew as a young adult and his relationship with Alfred as lovers.  
The story takes place in France in the 17th century : Louis XIV, Molière, etc...  
I apologize if this fic is not historically accurate !

Hope you'll enjoy !

''Speech''  
_Thoughts_

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DIS PAPA

The drawing room in the eastern part of the Manor was Francis' favourite room in the morning to sit. Nothing like the bright early rays of the parisian sun to bring out the golden strands of a nobleman's hair. Said nobleman smiled in content as he took a sip of his freshly poured coffee, remembering his escapades of the previous night. _What shall I do tonight ? Where shall I go ?_ Such were his thoughts. Young, handsome, rich, single, what else such a man should be thinking about than his own pleasure and his own person ? His frivolous musings were soon interrupted by a careful knock on the door. ''Come in.'' The French replied, slightly irritated. Another young man in a servant garnishments entered, a wide smile on his features. From what Francis could remember, that smile had always been there. The man was quite tall and had the blackest hair ever to be seen and the thinnest eyes. The servant, a Korean, walked up to his master in calculated steps, a silver tray on his right hand. On the tray lay a single letter. The Korean brought the tray down to his master's shoulder level for him to take the latter.

''A letter from Duchesse de Vignet, sir.'' The Korean informed. Francis rolled his eyes and sight, exasperated, and took the letter. He quickly opened it and scanned the letter with bored eyes. He gave another sigh and tossed the letter back onto the tray.

''Wright a letter to that old witch and tell her I am unwell and won't be attending the ball. That is all.'' He said, taking another sip of his coffee, his eyes to the window.

''If I may, sir...'' The servant started hesitantly. ''You have not attended any kind of party for years now.'' He observed.

''We both know that I was forced to go by my mother and father, God bless their souls.'' He laughed. ''Going to another boring party to listen to those eccentrics' boring little petty lives ? Indeed I shall not go. You are dismissed, Yong Soo.'' The Korean bowed and left the room.

_Now, where was I ? Ah, yes, tonight... There's this new brothel in town... I should disguise myself and have some fun._ He laughed to himself. Indeed, life was good when one was a free, handsome and rich young man... but the French had not even finished planning his evening that another knock on the door was heard. He frowned, now plainly unnerved. ''Come in!'' Im Yong Soo entered the room again and bowed.

''There's a Lady at the door, she begs for an audience with you.'' The servant informed, still smiling.

''A Lady, you say ? Who ?''

''I do not know, sir. She is not a noble and I have never seen her before.'' He informed. Francis tared, perplex.

''Is she beautiful ?'' Francis asked cockily.

''Well...''

''She clearly isn't. Why have you not send her off, Yong Soo ?'' Francis asked, slightly irritated. This made no sense.

''She is quite insistent and would not leave until she sees you, sir.''

''Then send my men or give her money!'' He ordered, frowning deeply. ''I will not have beggars in my house, you should know that, Yong Soo!''

''Indeed I do, sir.'' He bowed, though the silent apology did not seem sincere in the least. ''But may I suggest you see her, sir? She has brought... something interesting with her.'' Francis stared at the Asian, sceptical. What was the mischievous light in those thin black eyes ? He hesitated a long while before finally answering.

''Fine, let her in.'' He sighed. Yong Soo bowed and left again.

Not two minutes had passed when three new knocks on the doors were heard. ''Come in...'' He sighed, already finding his morning to be wasted. Yong Soo opened the door and entered, followed by a middle-aged woman. The woman was nothing special, but by her side walked a sad, almost sickly-looking boy, his little pale hand linked to the woman's. His gaze was downcast and filled with fear and sadness. Francis stared, flabbergasted. He felt his heart stop. It was impossible, simply impossible. That nose, that mouth, those hair! They were his! Francis quickly looked away. _Silly me, letting myself fooled by my imagination._ He told though, almost laughing at himself.

''Monsieur le Marquis.'' Francis lifted his gaze toward the woman as she spoke up. ''I will go straight to the point: this boy here is called Mathieu. He's your son.'' Francis' eyes considerably widened. A little gasp escaped from the little boy. Francis dared to look at him again. The boy seemed to be looking at him as well, but their eyes never truly meeting. His eyes were evasive. Francis gridded his teeth and tightened his fist. He gave the table beside him a powerful hit and rose from his seat. Utterly insulted.

''Nonsense! Leave this house at once !'' He yelled. The child hid himself behind the woman's dress, intimidated by the Frenchman's outburst.

''I will not, sir.'' The woman calmly said. ''The resemblance is too great. You cannot deny it.''

''Ah! I laugh at you foolishness, woman. You are far too old and ugly. Do not dare think I would have ever slept with you. Now, for the last time, leave.''

''Indeed I am not the child's mother, but I knew her. Now that she is dead, she can no longer take care of him. I brought this letter from her. She wrote it on her bed as she was dying.'' She took a letter out of the pocket of her coat. Francis simply could not believe what was happening. He looked at the letter, incredulous. He looked away from the letter, a troubled expression on his face. He glanced at the letter. He sighed and made a lazy gesture of his hand. Yong Soo nodded, took the letter and gave it to his master. Francis opened the letter, first frowning at the messy handwriting. As he read on, the man felt a strong headache winning over him.

_Francis Bonnefoy,_

_Back then, your wig and clothes would not fool me. You had introduced yourself under the common name of ''Phillip'', but that is not your name. I know the faces of the nobles; you are not the only one who has come to see me. Indeed I know your face and it is a face that I kept seeing in Mathieu's features the more he grew up. I should thank you for the gift you have given me. Mathieu has been my only joy for the past seven years. Now, I am dying and have no family to take care of him for me and I refuse to send him to an orphanage. Whether you want it or not, he is and will always be your son. I beg you to take care of him and love him. _

_I beg you._

_Jeanne Bellecourt_

''What a tasteless joke !'' He yelled, ripping the letter in two and letting it fall to the ground. The child was choking back his tears. ''I shall hear no more.'' He said, calmer, trying to regain his composure. The woman frowned. These noblemen were so stubborn ! She took the little boy's arm and brought him in front of her.

''Look carefully...'' She raised the boy's chin with her free hand. ''Sir... The resemblance and your reputation are such that people would have no trouble believing me if I informed them of the illegitimacy of Mathieu's birth.''

Francis stared. He was about to yell some other profanities, but decided against it. The woman's words were starting to eat him from the inside. He knew she was right. His title was in danger... but to take care of a child ? Supposedly his own ? This could not be. A smiled crept his features as he finally understood.

''Ah... yes, yes... of course. How much?'' He asked casually.

''I beg your pardon ?'' The woman stared.

''Money. How much do you want ?'' Was this not an evidence ?

''Nothing, sir. I simply want you to take this child.'' Hearing the words, Francis didn't know whether to scream or cry. He sat himself on his fancy chair, no longer able to stand. He brought his hand to his forehead, closed his eyes and sighed.

''Can you not take care of him yourself ?'' He asked, pleading, desperate...

''Indeed I cannot.''

''I will pay for everything !'' Francis insisted.

''It will not do. The poor boy just lost his mother. He needs his father more than he ever will. I am also giving you the opportunity to be a true father... an opportunity to do something charitable... something to live for...'' The woman trailed off. Francis looked at her, all traces of hope gone. This woman would hear nothing. He stayed silent for a long while.

''Fine. I will keep him. Now leave... please, for God's sake, just leave...'' Francis begged. The woman smiled.

''With pleasure.'' The woman knelt in front of the young boy and put her hands on each of his shoulders. ''Good bye, Mathieu. Be good.'' She said simply, smiling softly. Mathieu only nodded. He had not known the lady very much, she had been taking care of him for the past six months, after her mother's death, but he felt he'd rather stay with her than with his... father. He kept those feelings inside however, and tried to fight back his tears as best he could. The woman gave him a kiss on his forehead then, she left.

Time, then, seemed to stop. No one said a word. Mathieu's sad eyes were glued to the ground and he dared not to move. Francis was eyeing him with both contempt and unease. He could barely stand to look at him. The resemblance disturbed him too much. It only made everything more believable. And Francis refused it to be believable. Yong Soo's satisfied smile still had not faded, if anything, it had widened. But it did not last for long.

''Yong Soo.''

''Yes, sir ?''

''Take the child to the furthest orphanage you know.'' Francis said calmly, sipping his coffee. He frowned. It was cold. Yong Soo's smile instantly disappeared. Mathieu's eyes widened. He let his tears fall freely. The sight broke Yong Soo's heart.

''But sir...'' He objected.

''It is an order.'' This made the young child panic. He ran to the Frenchman's side and knelt in front of him, grabbing his right leg and crying loudly to him.

''Please father, not the orphanage ! I beg you !''

Francis was dumfounded. He felt his heart ache at the broken, pleading voice of the little boy. Angry at himself, Francis regained his spirit and pushed the child aside with his foot.

''Do not call me that !'' He yelled, exceedingly upset from hearing the word. He rose from his seat, leaving the astonished child crying on the ground behind. He walked slowly to the window as Yong Soo rushed to the child's side. The Asian whispered sweet words, but the child would not be consoled. Angry, Yong Soo spoke up.

''Sir ! This is quite enough ! Are you really willing to send your very own son to such a place ?''

Francis instantly turned around, ready to yell at his servant and punish him for daring to speak to him this way. However, he was silenced by the sight of the crying child. He felt his heart ache again. Seeing those tears falling from those beautiful blue eyes and trailing along the soft-looking cheeks of the angelic face was simple heart breaking. Indeed, was he willing to send this beautiful child to such a horrid place ? He sighed heavily again and felt his headache worsen.

''I...'' He started hesitantly. ''Fine. I will keep him.'' Yong Soo sighed in relief. Mathieu, although tears were still falling, smiled in absolute gratitude. Francis could barely breath. That smile was so deep and honest, it looked as if he had revived his mother ! He quickly looked away, his heart beating faster. ''H-However...'' He pursued, now looking straight at Yong Soo. ''... I want you to take care of him and make sure that he is never seen by any visitor or that he does not leave this manor. Is that clear ?'' Yong Soo was sincerely disappointed by this, but figured it was a start. Not wanting to make his master change his mind, the Asian did not protest and nodded silently. Francis dared a last glance at the still tears-filled eyes of the child. He was disturbed to see that the sight was still as poignant to him and without further ado, the noble left the room.

Yong Soo looked down at the young boy in his arms. Smiling softly, he wiped the remaining tears with his thumb. Mathieu, embarrassed but grateful, looked down with a shy smile on his features.

''I bet you're hungry !'' The Asian exclaimed, smiling when the boy nodded shyly. ''Then let's go to the kitchen, da ze !'' He continued animatedly, glad he no longer needed to be careful of his speech, the master not being around.

''Da ze ?'' The boy laughed softly. ''It sounds weird. What does it mean ?''

''Ah... nothing much. Don't worry about it.'' Yong Soo, his eyes suddenly nostalgic compared to his smile. He linked his hand with the little boy's and helped him up. ''Come.'' They walked on, Yong Soo closing the door behind them. They arrived in front of the stairs and the Asian was surprised to see what happened next. The boy joined his free hand to their linked ones and felt the child tighten his grip considerably. At first, the Korean didn't pay much attention to it and walked down the stairs at his usual space, but it seemed like it was too fast for the boy as the blond almost instantly lost foot. The Asian, quick on reflexes, nimbly caught him and helped him back on his feet. ''Are you alright, Mathieu ?'' He asked. The boy nodded shyly, muttering a quick ''I'm sorry.'' The Asian ruffled his hair affectionately. He decided to adapt his pace to Mathieu's. However, he hadn't expect it to be so... slow. Each step was so careful, Yong Soo could barely believe it. ''Could it be that you're afraid of stairs ?'' He asked playfully, joking more than anything.

''I used to fall off the stairs quite often... It hurts a lot.'' Mathieu explained simply, eyes not leaving his feet. Yong Soo did not answer, a little taken aback and truly not knowing what to say. Thus, after nearly a whole minute, they finally reached the first floor. They had not made three steps forward that that Asian stopped. Mathieu looked up to him, mildly confused, though his eyes, Yong Soo noted, did not seem to be looking directly at him.

''I forgot something upstairs. Just wait for me here, I'll be right back !'' Yong Soo explained cheerfully. And off he went and, true to his words, quickly came back. Mathieu noted that the tall man did not have anything in his hands. He wondered what he had forgotten. He extended his hand timidly for the other man to take it, but he let out a soft gasp as he was literally lifted off the ground instead. He wrapped his arms around the man's neck and buried his face into it, feeling a little insecure. After all, the man was so much taller than his mother ! Yong Soo smiled fondly, liking the feeling of the little boy's warm skin and soft hair against his neck. He had the feeling that his presence would make his days a whole lot more interesting and enjoyable. ''And to the kitchen we go !'' He cried in a lively voice then started to run. The boy giggled. ''Faster !'' He asked, laughing still, and Yong Soo happily complied.

OoOoO

Arrived at the kitchen, Yong Soo looked at Mathieu with amusement. The child's eyes were wide and his mouth slightly opened. There were four cooks and two female maids to help them. One of the Chefs was preparing a large cooking-pot of soup, another one was cutting vegetables incredibly fast and another one was cutting the meat... ''They are preparing Mister Bonnefoy's lunch.'' Yong Soo explained.

''Is Fa-Mister Bonnefoy having guests ?'' The little blond whispered as he was seated on one of the marble counters.

''Haha ! No, he isn't.'' Yong Soo replied.

''Really ?'' He replied a little louder, genuinely surprised. ''He's going to eat aaall that soup by himself ?'' He asked in a childish manner.

''Ah, well, nobles like to make sure they enough of everything.'' He explained awkwardly.

''Oh...'' Came the soft reply. Mathieu still wasn't sure if he understood, though. So much soup !

''Who's that ?'' One of the cooks suddenly asked.

''Who ?'' One of the maids asked, looking around. Her eyes landed on Mathieu. ''Oh my ! What an adorable little boy !'' The other maid instantly looked around, her reaction very much like her friend's. Soon, everyone but one cook was around Mathieu, studying him carefully.

''Look at his hair ! What a beautiful shade of blond !'' The first maid said.

''And that adorable little nose !'' The second squealed. Mathieu's cheeks turned deep red at the unusual attention. He brought his hands to his face to hide.

''Sweet Lord... So adorable !'' The first maid exclaimed.

''Looks awfully like Mister Bonnefoy, don't you think ?'' A Chef replied, a little perplex. An awkward silence followed. Yong Soo began to panic, thinking himself stupid for not predicting this. Francis had not told him to explain the truth to the servants...

''Ah... he's... a relative. A cousin's son I believe.'' The Korean said, his voice hesitant. He hoped they wouldn't ask any questions.

''Umm... This is quite curious indeed. The resemblance is so...'' Another chef trailed off. The others nodded in agreement.

''Yes, quite so indeed haha, da ze ! Now, what would you like to eat, Mathieu ?'' Yong Soo said nervously, changing the subject.

''Mathieu ? Oh, what an adorable name !''

''Yes indeed ! What would you like to eat ? You just have to ask ! Auntie will make you anything you'd like !'' The second maid said animatedly.

Mathieu spread his fingers timidly so that only his eyes were visible. He blinked, then quickly hid his eyes again. ''Anything's fine.'' He finally said, his voice muffled his hands. The maids squealed.

''Is there something you particularly like ?'' Yong Soo kindly asked, carefully taking the boy's hands off his face. The boy did not struggle, though his cheeks reddened and his eyes stayed down.

''... N-No...'' He said softly.

''Reaaally ?'' Yong Soo insisted, smiling widely.

''... Well...'' Mathieu started hesitantly. ''I... I like crêpes very much...''

''Da ze !'' Yong Soo cried in victory. ''Crêpes it will be !''

''I'll take care of that !'' The first maid happily exclaimed.

''What ? No ! I want to do it !'' The second protested.

''I'll do it.'' A strong, deep voice emerged. Everyone looked toward the voice; it was the chef whom had stayed at his counter. ''You'' He started, looking intensely at his staff. ''should stop bothering the poor child and go back to your duties.'' He scolded. They all sighed, the maids more heavily, and obeyed. Yong Soo laughed openly at them, consequently earning glares from the staff, two of them harder than the others. Yong Soo, then, turned his attention back on the little boy. They chatted, Yong Soo asking the boy's favourite food, colours, games and such. Mathieu was very short-worded at first, but soon the child forgot about his timidity and talked lively. Yong Soo listened to every word said, a fond smile plastered on his face. It went by so fast that Mathieu had completely forgotten he was hungry until a generously furnished plate of warm crêpes was set beside him. The pastries were soaked with sweet strawberry syrup. Several fruits lay neatly cut and placed around them. Mathieu stared at the plate, wide-eyed, and almost didn't notice when Yong Soo took him in his arms to sit him on a chair in front of his meal. Mathieu turned to the cook, smiling widely.

''Thank you very, very much, sir !''

''No problem.'' The chef laughed, ruffling his hair. The boy giggled in reply, then turned to his meal. As he grabbed his fork, Mathieu didn't seem to notice that everyone's stares were on him. With his fork, Mathieu carefully cut through the thin cake and brought a piece to his mouth.

''Hmmm.'' Mathieu chew slowly, concentrating on the taste. ''They're the best crêpes I've ever eaten !'' He exclaimed. The chef smiled and nodded in thanks. One of the maids arrived with a large glass of milk.

''There, fresh milk for you !''

''Thank you, madame !''

''You're welcome, sweetie.'' She smiled fondly. ''He's so polite !'' She told her friend, who nodded in response. Mathieu eagerly extended his arms, remembering how thirsty he was. Unfortunately, it seemed like he was a bit too eager and knocked the glass down, milk spreading freely on the counter.

''Oh no ! I'm sorry, I'm sorry !'' Mathieu cried. He hid his face with his hands again, ashamed of his doing. The other maid quickly came to clean the mess.

''Don't worry, Mathieu-dear. The glass isn't even broken.'' She soothed. ''Look, it's all clean now.'' Mathieu dared a glance and saw that, indeed, everything had already been cleaned up. The other maid had went to get him another glass of milk. This time, Mathieu was very careful and used both his hands. He turned to the maids before drinking.

''Thank you... Sorry...'' He said softly. The women quickly dismissed the issue with a smile and everyone continued with their work.

''Mademoiselle Bouvier.'' Yong Soo called as the boy ate.

''Yes ?'' One of the women answered.

''When you're done here, I'd like you to go to Mister Bonnefoy's side in case he needs anything. He asked me to take care of Mathieu so...''

''Very well, Mister Im.''

OoOoO

The day went by exceedingly fast for both Mathieu and Yong Soo. Yong Soo showed the boy around the mansion, which was so grand it nearly took all afternoon to do so, then, after diner, Yong Soo had read the child a book in the library. Soon, night came and Yong Soo gave Mathieu a bath. Yong Soo led him one of his shirt for him to sleep in, seeing as Mathieu had no other clothes than the one he had wore today. In fact, nothing had been brought for the child.

''Tomorrow we'll buy you some night clothes, what do you think ?''

''It's alright, I don't need new clothes.'' Mathieu politely denied.

''Nonsense.'' Yong Soo replied teasingly as he took him in his arms. He walked through the alleys, the both of them were dived in a comfortable silence, until he arrived at the servants' wing of the mansion and stopped in front of one of the many doors. ''This is my room, so if you need anything, just tell me, alright ?'' The boy nodded. ''And this...'' He continued, moving to the door right next to his. ''...will be yours, da ze !'' He exclaimed, entering the room. Though plainly furnished, the room seemed comfortable. There was a single bed, a desk and a chair as well as a wardrobe. Mathieu was completely amazed. He never had a room so grand.

''This... this is my room ? Really ?'' He asked.

''Yes !'' Yong Soo answered and settled the child comfortably on the bed. Mathieu sunk under the blankets. He played nervously with his fingers, hesitant, before opening his mouth.

''Does Mister Bonnefoy hate me ?'' He asked in a soft, trembling voice. Yong Soo barely knew what to say to this.

''No, of course he doesn't. He's just... He's just surprised. He is very eccentric and never had a child to take care of. You'll see, with a little bit of time, he'll come to you.'' Mathieu looked down, unconvinced.

''But he doesn't want me to call him Father... Is he not my Father ? Why should I call him something else ?'' Yong Soo didn't answer, he couldn't. ''Mother said I should love my Father... but I don't think I can...'' He confessed, frowning deeply.

''Please, don't say that, Mathieu... Here, take this.'' He said as he took out two ripped pieces of paper. ''They're your mother's last words, you should keep them preciously.'' Yong Soo smiled and gave the letter to the child. Mathieu took the pieces and stared at them. He looked at them for a long while. His shoulder, then soon his hands, began to shake. Mathieu bit his lip, fighting back the tears. Yong Soo looked sadly at the scene. He stoked the boy's hair, trying to comfort him.

''I-I.... I can't...'' Mathieu whispered. ''I can't read...'' Yong Soo stopped his movements, shocked by the statement. Wasn't the child seven years old ? Was his mother not educated ? ''Mother tri-tried to teach me, but...'' He stopped, tears falling freely now. Yong Soo, on instinct, hugged the crying child close to his heart and whispered soothing words until the child finally calmed down a bit. ''... I miss her ! I miss mommy !'' Tears fell again. Yong Soo was devastated. He could do nothing more than wait for the child to cry himself to sleep...

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Note: **Chapter one done ! Hope you enjoyed it. I'm sorry there wasn't much of Francis, but Korea's awesome too, da ze ? Also, if I'm correct, back in the 17th century, people didn't take baths because they believed water conveyed sickness... So sorry for being exceedingly lame, but since I find that quite disgusting, I decided that people in my fic would f*** take baths lololol.

Most of you probably guessed what's going on with Matthew. Although I haven't said it explicitly yet, I've let out several clues ! 8D If you haven't, then you'll find out in the next chapter !

**Translation:  
**Dis Papa – Say Daddy  
Duchesse – Duchess (lol)  
Monsieur le Marquis – Mister the Marchioness  
Crêpes – Pancakes (the thin ones)

PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW ;A;


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya... ANOTHER GASP.

**Note:** Thank you, my dear readers, for reviewing/subscribing ! You are most kind ! Merci beaucoup !  
Again, please be warned that the historical accuracy may be questionable. 8D

''Speech''

_Thoughts_

Enjoy !

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**DIS PAPA**

Im Yong Soo woke up that morning with a lot less energy than he was used to. It took quite a while for the young french child to fall asleep and his cries kept troubling his thoughts even when Yong Soo had been alone in his bed. He hated seeing people sad, even more so when they were children and, somehow, he found himself particularly preoccupied by the young Mathieu. The boy was sweetness incarnated. Plus, he was his master's son. He owned so much to the Bonnefoy. He frowned. Sometimes he truly didn't understand that man. Yes, he may be very eccentric, but he had seen the man show such generosity and kindness to people. Why was he being so mean to the poor boy ? He sighed.

''I can't understand those nobles...'' After countless minutes of angry musings, the Korean looked outside to his window and saw the sun fully risen. _It's a very fine day, today. _He thought, the brightly shining sun lightening his mood. The dark-haired man rose from his bed, dressed in his usual dark blue suit and made his bed. He, then, walked over to his desk where he had set the boy's clothes. He had cleaned and fixed them. They looked as good as new. He took them and whistled happily as he walked to his little neighbour's room. He knocked on the door. No answer. The boy was probably still sleeping.

''I'm coming in.'' He said and entered the room. Indeed the child was still very much asleep and the room was quite dark. Only a thin line of yellowish light traced itself upon the carpet from the curtains. He walked to them and spread them open. The room suddenly brightened. He looked behind him. The boy's eyes were still tightly shut and he did not seem to have so much as flinched. He walked to the bed and knelt beside it, looking closely at the sleeping blondinet. He smiled fondly at the sight and set the clothes on the bed. Mathieu was such an adorable child. Although there were still tears stains on his chubby, pale cheeks, the boy looked incredible peaceful, happy even, as the faintest smile bared his angelic features. He was probably having a sweet dream, a dream about his mother, maybe. Yong Soo hesitated before gently rubbing the boy's thin arm. He didn't want to tear the boy away from his dreams, but they had quite a long day ahead.

''Mathieu.'' Yong Soo called softly. ''It's time for you to wake up.''

The boy fluttered his eyes open, the sleepiness slowly fading away from his blue eyes. When he finally realized who was before him, the blond offered him a little smile and sat up. He rubbed his eyes with both his tiny fists and smiled to the Korean again.

''Good morning, mister Im.'' The shy boy whispered softly. Yong Soo smiled widely. It was the first time that Mathieu had said his name.

''Good morning, Mathieu. You can call me Yong Soo if you want.'' Mathieu nodded shyly in response. ''I'll help you dress up then we'll have breakfast, alright ?'' Mathieu nodded again and did as he was told. He rose his arms in the air to make it easier for Yong Soo to take off his night gown. He blushed. No one other than his mother had helped him dress before. Plus, he had been dressing up by himself for a little while. This was so new to him.

''You don't have to help me.'' He said shyly as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of his shirt that Yong Soo was holding for him.

''Haha, it's alright, da ze ! Unless you really would rather do it yourself ?'' Mathieu looked down to his hands and started playing with his fingers shyly.

''I... I don't mind.'' Truth is, he actually liked it. He liked the attention, he liked it because it felt like back when his mother did it. But he would never say that aloud. He didn't even need to. Yong Soo could almost read the child's thoughts in his nostalgic blue eyes. He let out a little laugh and finished his task. Then, he took his hand and off to the kitchen they went.

OoOoO

When they arrived at the kitchen, a nice assortment of croissants, jam and fruits was served. Both the Asian and the french boy ate with all the other servants. All the girls would gush over the blond. They listened and talked to him lively when the shyness of the child dismissed itself. Yong Soo frowned as he saw Mathieu knock his glass of milk down. _The second in two meals. _He thought. He did not pay too much attention to the little commotion that the gesture caused. The poor boy was apologizing yet again, the maids hastily consoled him and the men cleaned the mess and brought a new glass to the boy. Yong Soo laughed a little. The child was probably nervous. It was only understandable. He was a stranger in such a grand estate...

Once the breakfast finished, Yong Soo helped Mathieu put on his warmest attires, took his hand and led him outside. They walked on silently for a while, until the blond's little voice reached the Asian's ears.

''Where are we going ?'' It asked gently. Yong Soo smiled.

''To the couturier. We are buying you new clothes, remember ?''

''Ah... Yes, but I truly am fine with what I have. I don't want to cause more trouble.'' Yong Soo stopped his steps. _More trouble ? _His expression saddened.

''You are not a source of trouble, Mathieu. I want you to remember that.'' He caressed the boy's hair affectionately. ''Come on, now. Let's go.'' The blond nodded obediently and they continued to walk. Soon, they found themselves in front of the finest fashion shops in town. He entered the most extravagant one. Mathieu stared wide-eyed at the luxurious shop and its fine content. Mathieu had never seen so much colours and so many beautiful fabrics in his life. Brocade, silk, fine cotton...

''Ah ! Mister Yong Soo, what a pleasure to see you. Here for Monsieur le Marquis, I presume ?'' A plainly dressed middle-aged man greeted with a smile.

''Not exactly, sir. I'm here for this little boy here.'' The man stared, adjusting his glasses.

''Hm...'' The man mused as he looked at Mathieu. ''The boy looks strangely familiar.'' Mathieu blushed at the attention.

''Indeed ?'' Yong Soo answered. Not wanting to go deeper into the matter, he quickly added. ''As you can see, the boy needs a new wardrobe. Will you be so kind as to take his measurements ?''

''Yes, of course. What will I be making him ?''

''A complete set, for every seasons and every occasions.'' Yong Soo smiled. ''Send a notice to the estate when they are done, I will come fetch them myself.''

Both Mathieu and the man were simply flabbergasted.

''M-may I ask...?'' The man started.

''Hm...I...'' Yong Soo mumbled awkwardly. ''A present.''

''Oh.... I see.'' The man replied, little convinced. ''Come here and stand on this stool in front of the mirrors, my boy.'' The man smiled.

OoOoO

''Won't this cost a lot, Yong Soo ?'' Mathieu asked, worried.

''Not for mister Bonnefoy.'' Yong Soo laughed. Mathieu looked to the ground.

''But.... but mister Bonnefoy doesn't-''

''-Now come, Mathieu. It will take a while before your new clothes arrive. Until then, you still need clothes.''

''Eh ? B-but...'' Before he could finish his sentence, the boy was dragged to another fancy store.

OoOoO

Francis was drinking tea, a present from a chinese prince, quietly taking care of his finance of the month. The french almost chocked on his tea as he saw a bill from his usual couturier from two days before. He gritted his teeth before screaming in rage.

''Yong Soo ! Come here at this instant !''

There was a soft knock on the door and a maid entered looking utterly frightened.

''M-mister Im is not here, sir.''

''Where is he ?!'' Francis asked impatiently.

''He's p-playing with Mathieu outside in the gardens.'' She informed, her voice trembling. The Bonnefoy frowned deeply and rose from his seat. He was going to show the Asian the depth of his mind. Without losing another second, the man walked passed the maid, rudely shoving her out of the way and went towards the door leading to the gardens. As he got there, he stopped himself in front of a window where he got a good view of what Yong Soo was up to. His angry expression seemed to soften as he saw the blond child crying big tears, seated on the grass with a bloodied knee. Yong Soo was knelt in front of him, a handkerchief in his hand, tending to the wounds the best he could. He wrapped the cloth around the knee and took Mathieu in his arms. He

gently stroke his hair and, although Francis could not hear it, the dark-haired man was definitely saying sweet words to him, if not signing. Francis felt a pang at his chest. He didn't know why. Not liking the sight, the man simply returned to his study and paid the bills. He felt strangely better after that.

OoOoO

The following night, Yong Soo was awakened by the muffled cries and whimpers of his young neighbour. Quickly getting out of the bed, he walked up to the door and knocked a single time before entering, candle in hand, and more than a little worried.

''Mathieu, are you alright, da ze ?'' He asked softly as not to scare the boy. The child's tears were his only answers. Yong Soo tip toed to the boy's side, deposing the candle on the bedside table, and stroked his hair a little. The child still kept his face hidden in his pillow. ''Please tell me what's wrong.'' He asked just as softly.

''Mo-m... mo...'' _Mother ? _Yong Soo thought worriedly. ''Monsters....'' The child finally confessed between hiccoughs. Yong Soo stared, blinking once, twice. He smiled a big smile and hugged the boy tightly to his heart, still stroking the boy's hair.

''There, now, Mathieu ! I'll protect you from the monsters, da ze !'' He told him animatedly.

''R-really ?'' The child looked up to him, eyes wet and cheeks red.

''Yes, da ze ! I know a spell that will protect you from those evil creatures, da ze.'' He grinned. The child almost instantly stopped crying, his eyes full of hope. Yong Soo smiled fondly at that. Mathieu was so naive... so very adorable. ''All you have to do is lay back on your bed.'' He said as he helped him back into his warm covers. Then, the Asian closed his eyes, thinking. ''It's a song from my homeland.'' He explained simply, and began to sing a soft lullaby. Mathieu stared at Yong Soo in awe. Were all the grown ups aware of how to scare the monsters away ? His mother did the same thing when she was still alive ! This made Mathieu want to cry again, but he didn't want to worry Yong Soo. Maybe he would stop signing and then the monsters would come eat him !_ I have to stay strong !_ Mathieu thought to himself as he whipped away the tears. Mathieu could not understand what Yong Soo was signing, but it was very beautiful. What intrigued Mathieu, though, is that it seemed that the song was also very sad, for Yong Soo had so much nostalgia in his eyes as he sang in his mother tongue. Mathieu smiled when Yong Soo smiled to him and soon enough, his eyelids were getting very heavy.

The monsters didn't come to eat him that night. Thanks to Yong Soo's spell.

The nights after that, Yong Soo had decided to either sing or read a story to Mathieu before he went to sleep. Mathieu would always tell him about his dreams the next morning. Dreams of talking animals, perilous adventures and, of course, of his mother.

OoOoO

Yong Soo an Mathieu were taking a bath together, talking animatedly, Yong Soo washing the boy's hair, when it hit Mathieu.

''Yong Soo ?''

''-hilarious, da ze-Oh ? Yes, Mathieu ?'' Yong Soo smiled.

''Sorry to interrupt you, but hm... '' He started shyly. '' Do you think you could teach me Korean ?'' Voiced the boy softly.

''그렇습니다, 당연히 !'' Yong Soo cried happily. Someone to talk Korean to... that was more than Yong Soo had wish for. He had been afraid of losing his own mother language, seeing as no one within his immediate acquaintance. His rare letters were the only things that kept him from being completely detached from his homeland.

''Eh ?'' Matthieu stared, confused.

''I said yes, of course !'' Unable to contain his joy any longer, the Asian hugged the child tightly, laughing wholeheartedly.

OoOoO

One night came where the Bonnefoy estate experienced its first rainstorm since the arrival of the blond boy. The wind blew with violent force and the thunders and lightnings where so spectacular, it seemed as if they were going to pierce through the windows. The infernal noise had woken the asian man a little while ago. He had been simply musing in his bed, listening to the powerful concert of mother nature, thinking of only one thing: when the little was going to fight back his shyness and come to see him. The boy was probably hiding under the covers, scared out if his mind. He knew Mathieu was scared of this storms, he had told him himself. And so it didn't surprised him when he heard light footsteps approaching his room at the other side of the door. There was a long pause -the boy was probably being stopped by his timid yet polite nature again- before a single knock on the door was heard. Yong Soo instantly rose from his bed and almost skipped to the door, opening it with his most happy smile. It fell when he saw the boy's watery eyes. He felt a strong ache to his heart, feeling incredibly guilty for not checking upon the boy himself earlier. He smiled a tender smile to Mathieu and took him in his arms. No words were needed. He brought Mathieu to his bed and lay down beside him. Keeping his smile, Yong Soo began to stroke the boy's hair, trying to ease him to sleep. It worked finely as the boy close his eyes, remains of tears falling down his soft-looking cheeks. The boy smiled a little and snuggled closer into the older man's chest.

''I wish you were my father instead of mister Bonnefoy.'' Mathieu said in an incredibly soft yet sad voice. Yong Soo felt his heart freeze, then beating rapidly. Only now had he realized that so far, he had been acting like Mathieu's father. Francis was the boy's father, not him ! Who was he to take his master's place ? Who was he, to take such an important place in Mathieu's life ? He knew he didn't belong to this role. Francis did. Not him. And he had to do something. He couldn't let this go on.

Yong Soo looked down, a little sad, and saw that the boy's eyes were still closed.

''Thank you.'' He said, honesty singing in his words. He truly was honoured by the child words. ''But you mustn't think like that, Mathieu. Mister Bonnefoy is your father, not me.'' He explained gently.

''But he doesn't want me... and... a-and...'' The boy started, hesitant. Yong Soo said nothing, not wanting to force the boy to talk. ''... and I don't think I want him to be my father either. I'd prefer if it was you.'' Yong Soo sighed sadly and hugged the boy tightly.

''You have to give him a chance, Mathieu...'' Yong Soo said.

No other words were exchanged.

OoOoO

Nearly two weeks had passed since Mathieu first came into the Bonnefoy estate. During these weeks, the master had been more than displeased about the child's presence and about that fact that the Asian was neglecting his work in favour of playing with the boy. For years Yong Soo had been Francis' personal servant and voilà that some bastard child had to come and ruin his life ! He hadn't even become used to it yet. This had to cease.

''Yong Soo, come here for a moment.'' He called out, expecting the Asian to come beside him any second. Not too far behind him, a maid stood awkwardly, not really knowing what to do. ''Yong Soo!'' He shouted angrily as he turned around and saw his maid. He sighed: he had been caught again. ''Go and fetch him.'' He ordered her. The maid nodded nervously and bowed before exiting the room.

OoOoO

Ever since Mathieu had evoked the desire to learn his language, Yong Soo had made sure to gently initiate the boy by showing him basic and easy vocabulary by pointing things and simply naming them. However, the man knew he couldn't get into the language properly without teaching the young boy how to read and write. He had not dared to bring the subject up, too scared of making the boy cry by making him remembering his dear mother. Today though, he decided, was the day he would engage the matter. Both were now in one of the music rooms, seated at the table where his master's guest would often play cards. Yong Soo had brought papers, nibs and ink. The boy was looking at him curiously, not really knowing what the older man had in mind.

''I think it's time I teach you how to write, Mathieu.'' Yong Soo said in a careful, soft voice, his tanned face bearing a tender smile. Mathieu looked down sadly.

''But I told you I can't.'' Yong Soo blink. The boy enriched. ''I told you my mother tried to teach me, but I was never able to read or write even after months of trying.'' Yong Soo's mouth fell. He had been sure that what Mathieu had meant that night, was that his mother had died before she could finish teaching him !

''... I ...'' _How is that possible ?_, he thought, alarmed. ''Let's try again, alright my boy ?'' He said.

''Alright.'' Mathieu nodded. Yong Soo took one of the two nibs and wrote all the letters of the alphabet. Thus began Mahtieu's first lesson with Yong Soo...

''And when you see those letters together, ''au''and ''eau'', it also makes the sound ''o'', as in the word...'' He trailed off as he wrote different words on his paper. ''Gâteau.'' He finally said. ''And often, their plural form takes an ''x'', but you don't pronounce it, alright ?'' Yong Soo smiled to Mathieu, who nodded nervously, obviously unsure of himself. ''Good. It's your turn to work now, da ze !'' The servant exclaimed happily. ''Copy each letter five times, it'll practice your writing.'' He instructed. He watched with a good eye as the boy nodded shyly and took he other nib. He smiled a little when the boy missed the little pot of ink. After he succeeded in inking his nib, the boy sharpened his eyes and almost glued his face to Yong Soo's alphabet sheet, sticking out his tongue a little. Yong Soo blinked at that. Mathieu stared at the letters a long time before bringing his nib to the blank sheet in front of him. Yong Soo's eyes widened in horror when he saw the child slowly, very slowly, began to copy the ''letters''. Said letters were, in fact, a blurry mess of misshaped lines that looked nothing like what he had written. The first set of letters were completed, then came the second set. Yong Soo was still voiceless. He could not believe it. At his age... was the child... ? His thoughts were interrupted by the boy's timid voice.

''Yo-Yong Soo ? ... hm... What's... what's the difference between this letter and this letter... I... I can't tell...'' He said very softly, greatly ashamed of himself.

''Huh ?'' Came Yong Soo's unintelligent reply. He blinked, still staring at Mathieu's mindless scribble. He lifted up his gaze to meet Mathieu's. Again, the boy's eyes were not quite meeting his own.

That was when it hit him.

The epiphany came upon himself like the hammer on the nail. In a flash, the Asian rose from his seat, and with such speed that the chair fell behind him. Mathieu jumped in surprise.

''Of course !'' Yong Soo screamed, almost sparkling in joy. ''It all makes sense, da ze !'' He had to keep himself from laughing, happy to finally understand.

The evasive gaze, falling off the stairs, hurting himself when playing, knocking things down, unable to read or write, his messy writing... and now this... The boy was as good as blind ! He needed glasses ! That was it !

''Mathieu ! I finally found out what-'' He was interrupted by three small knocks on the door. The maid entered and spoke up.

''Mister Bonnefoy wishes to see you, mister Im. He is in his study.'' The maid informed. Yong Soo sighed deeply, finding the timing of this maid exceedingly unnerving.

''Fine.'' He said rather harshly. ''Would you take care of Mathieu while I see the master ?'' He asked the maid, annoyed. The maid chose to ignore the rather dry tone of the man and smiled widely at his request.

''Yes, of course !'' She answered excitedly and instantly went to the boy side, asking him if he was hungry or if there was a game he wished to play. Yong Soo couldn't help but cease from his anger and smile at the scene. Without further ado, the tall man went to find his master.

As usual, Yong Soo made three polite knocks on the door. He was answered his a very harsh ''Come in !'' and swallowed hard, dreading what could be wrong. He entered the room and bowed.

''You asked for my-''

''Yong Soo ! Will I have to fire you ?'' Francis cut in.

''I-I beg your pardon, sir ?'' Yong asked, flabbergasted.

''For more than two weeks now you have not worked and have made ridiculous expenses on my behalf. This is unforgivable.'' Francis elaborated, deadpan. Yong Soo frowned deeply.

''I have been working, sir.'' He contested.

''Have you indeed ?'' The French mocked.

''Yes. I have been taking care of your son which, if I may remind you, should be your role.'' He said, putting great emphasis on the 'your's. Francis snorted.

''This little rat of an orphan is not my son, Yong Soo.'' He spit as if it was venom. At this point, Yong Soo saw red. Unable to control his anger, the man moved toward his master in blinding speed and gave the blond such a powerful punch that the other fell to the ground, speechless and with a bleeding nose. The aristocrat stayed fallen on the ground, unmoving and insulted to the point he wasn't even sure of what had just happened.

''Mathieu is not a rat ! He is a child, the sweetest that this country have ever beheld, and he is your child !'' Yong Soo screamed his lungs out. Francis said nothing. He just kept on looking at him, wide-eyed. ''Mister Bonnefoy... Francis.'' He corrected himself. ''When you took me in and accepted to give the job even though I was a homeless foreigner, I thought, that day, that you were a honourable man. More generous than he claims to be. Over the years, we became friends.'' He started, his voice slowly regaining a normal volume and tone. ''You were always the eccentric man, Francis, but now I do not call it eccentricity. I call it stupidity, dishonesty, selfishness... everything you claim to despise !'' He continued.

''I-I ... I'' Francis started weakly, still completely shocked and outraged.

''You don't seem to realize that you're making the biggest mistake of your life, Francis.'' Francis blinked. ''You are losing your son, Bonnefoy.'' At this, the French frowned, strangely not liking how that sounded. ''And you are losing him to me.'' Yong Soo laughed mockingly.

''... what ?'' Francis' voice came out strangely soft.

''I suggest you do something about that, or I will legally adopt Mathieu. I know he'd be glad to hear that. His true father hates him, after all, and the feeling is slowly becoming reciprocal.'' He explained, looking at the man in front of him with disdain. Francis stayed motionless, the blood dripping from his nose had stained his pale blue suit. He could care less. The pain of his nose could not beat the one he felt at his heart. _Losing Mathieu ? Mathieu hates me ?_ He mentally snorted, trying to regain his composure. _Why should I care ?_ But saying this to himself didn't lessen the pain in the least.

''It's time for you to take your responsibilities.'' Yong Soo continued, slowly walking up to his master and offered him his hand. ''And I am willing to help you.'' Yong Soo smiled. Francis took the hand and was helped up to his feet by his servant. He didn't say anything. His better judgement said him to refuse, but his heart kept him from opening his mouth. ''I have made an important discovery today.'' Yong Soo informed. Francis raised a curious brow. ''Apparently, Mathieu needs to see an optometrist. He can't see well.'' Francis raised his other brow.

''He-he can't see well ?'' He sounded much more worried than he had wanted to.

''Indeed he can't. You should go with him to the optometrist tomorrow.'' Yong Soo suggested. Francis immediately looked away, a little flush covering his cheeks.

''I shall not !'' He firmly protested.

''You will, sir.'' Yong Soo stated calmly.

''Yong Soo !''

''Or else !'' Yong Soo cut in rudely. ''I might just go and tell the world how you have gotten yourself a new family member.'' At this, Francis gritted his teeth angrily, his fists shaking in utter frustration. However, the man said nothing. What was there to be said or done anyways ? He was trapped. Yong Soo smiled in satisfaction and left the room without another word. When the door closed, Francis growled in rage and took the nearest thing in sight -an expensive chinese vase- and threw it to the wall. He panted, too angry to even breath normally. What had he gotten himself into ? This wasn't a simple matter of getting drunk, or fooling around with women -every nobleman did that- it was an illegitimate child ! If people found out... if they found out !

Francis fell to his knees. He massaged his temples. A vision of Mathieu's shy smiled appeared.

Of course, if people did indeed find out, not only would he lose all his prestige as a nobleman, but Mathieu's chances of having a respectable life would diminish considerably. Francis smiled. Yong Soo would never let that happen. He got up to his feat. He had nothing to be afraid of.

''I've been foolish enough to believe that Asian's threat...'' He laughed to himself and went to get himself changed. There was a masquerade tonight in the greatest brothel of Paris. He wouldn't miss that for anything in the world.

When evening came, the French put on his most extravagant outfit -a blood-red coat with white lace and black ribbons with an assorted tricorn- and his black cloak, black gloves and a venetian eye mask. He looked at himself in the mirror. Ah... he loved himself. So handsome, ravishing ! He laughed, taking the bottle of wine he had started earlier and drank it directly from the bottle, not wanting to be bothered with a glass. He then walked through the many rooms and halls of his estate so as to go the front door, in search of his carriage. As he opened one of the doors to the drawing room, the French was stopped by a soft, tiny voice coming from behind.

''What are you going to read to me tonight ?'' The voice asked happily. Francis turned around and saw the boy in Yong Soo's arms. They had just entered the room and did not seem to have noticed him yet.

''Hm... How about-''

Yong Soo stopped, seeing his Master. He frowned a bit, seeing that his Master was clearly going out tonight again. Mathieu blinked at Yong Soo's frown and followed his gaze to find the source of it. He let out a little gasp as he saw a darkly dressed, scary-looking masked man in front of them. Francis frowned deeply at the little boy's reaction. He slowly walked up to them, not a single word being exchanged. He stopped, barely a foot away from them. Mathieu was trembling, terrified at the stranger in front of him. Francis extended an arm and grabbed a strand of soft golden hair.

''Ah!'' Mathieu cried weakly as he jerked his head away and hid in Yong Soo's neck, crying softly. Francis stared, completely taken aback by the reaction. He felt his heart wringing painfully. He clenched his fist and turned around in a frantic, angry pace. He stopped again when his hand was on the doorknob. Not turning to face the two younger boys, Francis finally spoke up.

''Fine, I will go.'' And with that, the man left, slamming the door violently behind him. Mathieu jumped at the loud 'bam'. He looked up to the closed door, teary eyes wide opened.

''...m-mister Bonnefoy ?'' Mathieu asked in a timid voice. He hadn't recognized him until he heard his voice ! Mathieu's tears fell as he realized he must have made a capital offence to his father. He felt Yong Soo's kind hand in his hair. He turned to him and saw that the man was smiling widely, as if satisfied. Yong Soo kissed the boy's forehead.

''Let's go, it's getting late, da ze !''

* * *

**Note:** gfhjdkghjfkdhgjkdfh...OTL... I'm such a slow-mo writer ! Sorry about that ! I have to say... this took quite a bit long to write. I know I had promised more Francis in this chapter, but as I read what I had written, I was afraid I might be rushing things too much. So this chapter came up in between. I still wanted to write about the relationship that Yong Soo and Matthew are developing. n_n And yay ! We have a little progress on Francis' side too !

Soooo, had some of you guessed Matthew's problem (aka lack of glasses) ? I did try to let out some clues here and there... I tried not to make it too obvious either... did I fail ? I dunno...lol.

**Please review please review please review please review please review !!! 8'D**

PLZ ILU GAIIIZ KTHXBYE


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **fhdjfhdkjsjkfhj

**Note: **Thank you very much again for the reviews !

**Warning:** Shameless kitschness ahead !

''Speech''

_Thoughts  
_

* * *

**DIS PAPA**

A horrible headache struck Francis painfully, much as if an anchor had fallen upon his head. He brought his hands to his temples and massaged them helplessly, trying to ease the pain. He sat up in his bed, letting out a loud groan of pain. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times because of the blinding light. He remembered he hadn't drawn the curtains the night before. Francis frowned. In fact, he didn't remember much of last night's events at all. He looked down to his clothes and let out an sigh of exasperation as he saw the state he was in. He was still in his red suit -he even still had his boots on- and said suit was stained with wine, so were the covers of his bed. His breath had a heavy putrid smell of alcohol. Francis fell back on his bed, growling. He was starting to remember now: He had had the solid intention of getting laid yesterday, be he had been, somehow, so frustrated because of Mathieu -because the boy hated him ? Because the boy preferred Yong Soo?- that he hadn't been able to do so. Each time a potential prey would pass by him, all his resolution would fall. Instead, the man had gotten himself drunk out of his mind. He wondered how he had succeeded in getting back to his estate, let alone his bed. He must have been... helped... by his coachmen and servants. Letting out another sigh, Francis pulled on the rope hanging beside his bed. Somewhere, a little bell rang. It did not take long for a servant to come to Francis' side, and Francis was half surprised to see Yong Soo himself enter the room.

''Goog morning, sir.'' Yong Soo greeted, smiling a little mockingly. Francis was in too much pain to care.

''I'm surprised to see you.'' He growled.

''Am I not your servant, sir ?'' Yong Soo laughed. Francis frowned. He hesitated before asking:

''Where is Mathieu ?'' Yong Soo's smile widened.

''He is having breakfast with the others in the kitchen.'' He informed.

''Oh.'' Francis blinked, a little embarrassed at his question. ''Well.'' He looked away. ''There will be no breakfast for me, Yong Soo. I'm a bit too unwell for that. Prepare a bath instead.'' He said as naturally as possible, dismissing Yong Soo with a smooth gesture of the hand. Yong Soo bowed and so it was.

OoOoO

Francis sat in front of his mirror fixing his wig carefully. He felt exceedingly uncomfortable in plain commoner's clothes and the make-up he was wearing to make himself look tanner was making his skin itch annoyingly. However, such was the price to pay has to not be recognized in the streets. What would people say if rich mister Bonnefoy was walking with that little boy looking disturbingly like him ? If they were seen together -Francis not disguised- he would be found out for sure !

''Are you ready, sir ?'' Yong Soo asked, a little annoyed at Francis' disguise. He sighed, if this was the only way to make his master spend some time with his son, then so be it.

''Yes.'' Francis replied plainly. Both men walked toward the estate's main door. Mathieu stood there, warmly dressed, chatting happily with a maid about the korean words he had learned and how he was looking forward to have glasses. He looked behind him and smiled when he saw Yong Soo arrive. His eyes then landed on the stranger beside him. He blinked. He looked so familiar. He decided to ignore the feeling. The maid seemed confused as well.

''You may go, Madeline.'' Yong Soo smiled to the maid, who nodded reluctantly, leaving the three others alone in the lobby.

''Can we go now, Yong Soo ? And who is that person ?'' He asked innocently, pointing Francis. Yong Soo smiled an apology.

''I'm sorry Mathieu, but I won't go with you. Mister Bonnefoy is the one who is going to accompany you.'' He kindly explained to Mathieu, not wanting to upset the boy. Mathieu pouted sadly, then blinked as the second half of the information registered into his brain. He looked up to the tanned stranger.

''M-mistser Bonnefoy ?'' He asked hesitantly in a soft voice. Francis looked away uneasily.

''Yes, this is Mister Bonnefoy.'' Yong Soo confirmed. Mathieu blushed in embarrassment. He was also very confused. It seemed that mister Bonnefoy liked to dress weirdly. Francis couldn't stand the awkwardness of the situation anymore. He let out an annoyed growl and walked toward the door.

''Let's go and get this gone.'' He said and went to find the coachman. Mathieu and Yong Soo stared as the door closed. A short silence followed. Yong Soo knelt in front of Mathieu, putting his hands on the boy's shoulders.

''I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Mathieu. I want you to be a good boy, okay ? Mister Bonnefoy is scary, but I promise he won't hurt you.'' He smiled to the uneasy boy. ''You should be grateful to him, da ze.'' He said, stroking the boy's soft hair affectionately. ''If it weren't for him, you wouldn't be able to get glasses. Remember what I told you ? With glasses, you'll be able to read your mother's letter.'' He smiled to the child who nodded shyly.

''But can't you come with us ?'' Mathieu asked, hopeful.

''No... I'm sorry Mathieu. I have a lot of work today...'' He smiled apologetically. Although he did have work, he truly could have gone with them... he didn't like to lie, especially to little Mathieu. But it was for his own good. As well as his master's.

''I see...'' Mathieu replied sadly.

''You should go, now.'' Yong Soo said kindly, giving the boy a soft kiss on his forehead. Mathieu nodded, smiling, and exited through the door.

OoOoO

Francis had chosen his less luxurious carriage, which was still quite flamboyant in any noble's standards, and had been to an isolated street and from there, they would walk to the optometrist. He didn't people to either recognize his carriage or to wonder how two commoners like them could have such a carriage. And so, off they got of the carriage and began their walk. Francis was walking in a rather fast pace. He seemed impatient. Mathieu tried his best to follow him. He almost had to run. The nearer they got to the crowded streets, the harder it would be for Mathieu to follow. He even sometimes bumped into people. _Yong Soo would not have walked so fast_... He thought sadly. _And he would have held my hand so I wouldn't get lost_... But he was much too shy to ask either of those things from mister Bonnefoy. Soon enough, there was just too much people and Mathieu lost sight of his father and before he could call him, a tall man bumped into him, causing him to fall face first in a little puddle of water and mud.

Francis kept on walking, not even glancing behind him. He saw a small shop with a wooden sign on which was drawn a pair of glasses and a family name under it.

''We're almost there.'' Francis announced. He hadn't really expected a reply, but the lack of it still annoyed him a bit. ''Are you-'' He stopped dead as he turned around. Where was Mathieu ? He looked frantically around him, twice. He walked back toward where they had come from.

''Mathieu ? Mathieu ! Where are you, Matheu !'' He said, his tone becoming more worried and louder with each passing second. Suddenly a faint sound of an child's sobs stopped him. He followed the sounds and, to his great relief, saw the little blond boy in front of him. He frowned, however, as he saw the state the child was in. The boy was crying, trying to get the dirt off his face, but only dirtying his hands. Francis ran to him and knelt in front of him. He felt so guilty, he didn't even know what to say. He took out his handkerchief and began cleaning the boy's face.

''Mathieu... I... I'm so sorry...'' The man said in an unusually soft, yet uneasy voice. Why was he feeling so weak and useless ? ''Please just... don't cry, I beg you...'' He pleaded, as he continued to clean the little boy's face. He noticed with a frown that the little rocks on the streets had made a scratch on the boy's perfect skin. He removed as much dirt as possible off the wound and cleaned the rest of his face. The boy also had mud in his hair and a bit on his clothes, but Francis was unable to remove it completely. He frowned guiltily at the sight. Fortunately, the boy's cries had diminished.

''I'm, I'm so-sorry...'' The little boy said between hiccoughs. Francis blinked. What in the world was he apologizing for ? ''It's my punishment...'' The boy reasoned. ''...f-for yesterday.'' He finished, his cries a little louder. Francis frowned, not quite understanding what the boy meant. Then it hit him. He was talking about... Francis remembered the night before, Mathieu had cried seeing him disguised. Francis felt a new powerful wave of guilt. He didn't think Mathieu would believe that he had taken offence in that... With a very, very hesitant hand, Francis gently caressed the boy's now dirty hair.

''... No, Mathieu... This isn't punishment, I know you didn't mean it.'' He said, trying to sound reassuring. The boy calmed down a little.

''...Really ?'' The short blond asked in a tiny broken voice, wiping away his tears. Francis blinked and blushed, unsettled by the adorable sight.

''R-really. And I should have payed more attention... it's my fault if you fell...'' He admitted, looking away. This was quite humiliating. He dared a glance at the boy and was greeted by a smile. Suddenly, it didn't feel humiliating. In fact, he felt proud that the smile was back on the boy's features. He gave the boy an awkward smile in return and got up to his feet. He, then, extended his hand. The boy blinked then looked up to him. ''Take my hand.'' Francis simply stated. Mathieu nodded shyly and did as told. As they walked, in silence, mind you, Francis noted he had to decelerate his pace considerably, as the boy's short legs could not keep with his own long ones. He could not help it but find the sight quite adorable. Soon enough, the strange duo found themselves in front of the optometrist's shop. Francis knelt in front of the boy and, keeping his expression firm, warned the boy.

''For now, our family name is Chevalier.'' He instructed. Mathieu did not ask questions and simply nodded, not wanting to upset the man. Francis got up again and took the boy's hand. They entered the shop, a little bell rang as they did, and a white-haired, rounded man came at the counter, a big smile gracing his face. He blinked, seemingly surprised, as he saw the duo in front of him. They looked quite poor. Poor people usually couldn't afford glasses.

''Good day, I am Doctor Clef. How may I help you ?'' He asked politely. Francis greeted the man with equal politeness and explained his son's situation. ''Hm, I see, I see.'' He nodded, scratching his chin, perplex expression on his face as he listened to all the 'symptoms' the boy had shown. ''His case seems quite heavy... why did you not come earlier ?'' He asked. At this question, Francis blinked. He had to think of a plausible answer.

''We... We did not have the money until now.'' He said, proud of the easiness his answer came with.

''Oh, yes. My apology.'' The man instantly said, a little embarrassed at his own question. He should have known. They looked so poor... He cleared his throat. ''Hm, yes, hem... Now, would you come with me, my little boy ? I am going to make some tests so I know what would suit you. Tell me, what's your name, little one ?''

''Mathieu.'' He smiled at the boy's shy and polite nod. The man and the boy entered an adjacent room, leaving Francis to wait alone. The man sat on a chair and waited, and waited... It lasted four hours. And for those hours, Francis thought of many things, but of Matthew mainly. He found himself genuinely worried about the boy's eyes... and from there, slowly wondered about the boy's education. He frowned. Yong Soo would take care of that. He probably wasn't much of a genius. Why should he bother about the boy's education ? When the boy was old enough, fourteen or fifteen maybe, he could go and take care of himself. He nodded. Yes, that will do. His heart felt strange at the idea, but his stubborn mind was set. The boy finally came out, the old man behind him and looking quite disturbed. Francis blinked.

''What is the matter ?'' Francis enquired, heart pounding worriedly. The man blinked.

''Oh ! Well...'' The man started uneasily. ''Mathieu's eyes are in a much worst case than I imagined...'' He admitted uneasily. ''I've rarely seen such cases... not only is his vision blurry, but it is also slightly distorted.'' Francis frowned.

''What do you mean... distorted... ?'' He asked, incredulous.

''Well...'' The optometrist started, giving the boy a furtive glance. ''From what I could make out with the tests... He is seeing double and those two... dimensions, if I may call them that, are superimposed in a twisted fashion, like this.'' He explained as he tried to show the young man by gestures of his arms. Francis could only stare.

''... s-slightly distorted, you say ?'' Francis finally spoke. Matthew, too, was shocked to hear the old man talk.

''Yes. It is not as bad as it seems. I've seen worst cases... but still...'' The doctor trailed off. He sighed as he walked to his display counters where many pairs of glasses lay. He examined them carefully and finally picked up one. He walked to father and son and kindly asked the boy to sit on a chair. Mathieu obeyed. The man knelt in front of him and spoke.

''I will have to make a special pair for him, none of the pairs I have now are designed for his sight, unfortunately. With this pair, he will see normally but only in close range.'' The man explained. He was about to give them to the boy when Francis interrupted.

''They are quite thick...'' He remarked, a little unsettled. ''Won't this be heavy on his little nose ?'' Francis asked. They were not very esthetically good-looking either. The man laughed.

''Ha, yes, but the thinner, the more expensive, sir.''

''... Well I don't care about the price. Don't you have anything lighter ?'' Francis was surprising himself at this moment. He shouldn't care about the thickness of the glasses. Getting the boy glasses was already something exceptional from him in itself. _But_ _Mathieu has such a delicate nose... _He mused. The old man blinked, a little surprised, but nodded in understanding.

''Well, indeed I have thinner glasses... '' He said, getting up again. As the man looked for another pair, Mathieu diverted his gaze on his father. His eyes were wide and bright.

''You don't have to trouble yourself, sir. Please do not waste money on my behalf. The thicker ones will be fine.'' Mathieu said in his most soft and polite tone. Francis blushed, finding himself unsettled by the boy's incredible charms. Even the optometrist was impressed by the formal and polite address of the young child._ Such a well-mannered child. _The old man admired. To have such good manners from a seemingly poor family was such a rare thing.

''N-nonsense.'' Francis said, after clearing his throat nervously, looking away from the child. ''These hideous things will make your nose crook with the passing years. It is intolerable.'' Doctor Clef raised a brow at the man's words. He acted quite superficial and picky for a man of his statue. The doctor finally took another paired and went back to the strange pair. Francis looked at the new glasses, still looking a little annoyed. ''Are these the thinnest you have ?'' Clef blinked.

''No, they aren't, but I do believe the thinnest I have will be too expensive...'' Francis sighed heavily. Getting up, the aristocrat in disguise took out his purse and emptied it on the counter. The old man's eyes widened at the amount of gold pieces that were revealed to him. Francis did not look impressed. It was such a small amount of money for him. ''Will this be enough ?'' He asked. Clef stuttered incoherent words. Unable to talk, he simply nodded. He shook his head, trying to regain his composure. He looked up to the young man in front of him, suspicion clear in his eyes. Had this man rubbed a noble or something ? Not really caring about that -he wanted that money, after all- the old man decided not to ask any question and simply took out his thinnest pair of glasses out from his locked drawer. Both men, then, walked back to the little boy's side who seemed oblivious to what had just happened.

The old man knelt again, so did Francis, and lifted up the glasses to the boy's eye-level. Then, he stopped. He might want to warn the boy before literally making him see a new world.

''Now, my boy, listen carefully.'' The man started. Mathieu nodded. ''How old are you ?'' Mathieu blinked.

''I'm seven years old, sir.'' He replied.

''Very well. My boy, for seven years you have seen a world that is different from ours.'' He explained kindly. ''When you will put on these glasses, you might find the way I look strange. Scary, even.'' He added. ''But this is how you are supposed to see me. You have to be courageous, alright my boy ?'' Mathieu nodded, smiling, not truly getting the importance of the whole matter. Surely, it couldn't be that different from what he had seen all these years ? Clef handed the glasses to the boy, who carefully took them. He swallowed nervously, now dreading the moment. He lifted the glasses up and clumsily put them on. Almost instantly, the boy gasped and took them off. Both Bonnefoy and Clef eyed the boy worriedly. With trembling hands, Mathieu put the glasses back on. _I must have imagined it._ He told himself. But he was wrong. Again, Matthew's eyes widened. Everything looked so strange... so new... yet... so much... clearer. He blinked, unable to speak. True to what the doctor had said, what was further away was very blurry, even more so than before, but...

''Are you okay, Mathieu ?'' Francis spoke, not bearing the silence any longer. Mathieu turned to his father. His eyes widened even more and his mouth opened slightly in silent surprise. Francis unconsciously leaned closer, trying to hear something the boy might have said. Still completely speechless, Mathieu extended his hand and gently brushed it against his father's cheek, then trailed it along the nose. Francis tensed under the light touch, but did not reject it. He let the boy explore the new world.

''You have such a big head...'' The boy whispered.

Francis chuckled at the little boy's comment. It was then that he realized that it was thanks to him if this was happening. He had brought this new light in the little boy's life. He felt... proud, happy, even. The boy blinked and blushed, realizing what he was doing. He looked around him with wide eyes, sometimes sharpening them, as if wondering if what he was seeing was nothing but his imagination. Both grown men chuckled a bit as they observed the child. Said child looked down at it fingers... He stared at them. Everything looked clearer, the lines sharper, more detailed. There was no mistake. This was the world he was supposed to see. _I will finally be able to read... I will be able to read mother's letter !_ He mused happily. He looked up to the men before him and smiled a wide and bright smile to them.

''Well,'' Francis started, regaining his serious as he stood up. ''We will take these until his real glasses are ready.'' He informed the older man. The latest blinked.

''Oh, right. Yes.'' He said, still impressed at the commoner's attitude. He acted and spoke like a true noble. Indeed, such curiosity... ''If you bring this pair back unscratched, I will happily refund you.'' The doctor said. Francis raised a brow at that. He could care less about refunding. _Oh, yes, I am supposed to be poor... _He mused, trying not to laugh.

''Thank you, sir.'' He bowed politely.

''If you will come with me, sir, I need you to fill in some papers for me.'' The doctor said. Francis followed and did as told. He frowned a bit at the questions... where he lived, where he worked and so on. He couldn't really lie to that, it could cause problems. _Hm... I'll just say I work as a servant at my place.. and that I'm living there...._ He mused, smiling a little at all this comedy. This was rather exciting. When he was done, he handed in the paper. The doctor smiled. ''Very well, mister Chevalier. I will send a note to you when the order is done. Also, you should come back every year in case Mathieu's glasses need adjusting.''

Francis bowed again, lifting up his hat, and turned around. He took the boy's hand in his own -not wanting to repeat the earlier mistake- and was about to leave the shop when another thought popped in his mind.

''Make two pairs in case Mathieu brakes one. I do believe the money I gave you is enough to cover for both pairs, yes ?'' He said smoothly to the man. The doctor blinked.

''Y-yes. Of course. Have a good day.'' Francis smiled and left the shop. Mathieu looked quite confused, he hadn't really paid attention to their conversation he had been too busy looking around him. Stepping out in the street was quite scary for the young boy. So many people looking so different from what he had been used to... He stick closer to Francis trying not to get bumped into again. Francis frowned a bit, but seeing the scared expression the boy's face made his heart melt. He sighed a little, blushing, leaned down and took the boy in his arms. The little boy let out a little surprised gasp and quickly wrapped his short arms around the tall man's neck.

''You'll see better like that.'' Francis said softly. Mathieu stared at him and smiled shyly, nodding. The boy went on with his observations. As they walked, Francis' heart was fluttering strangely, though not in a wrong way. He liked the feeling of having the little boy in his arms. He could feel it... the fatherly love. It was stronger than reason. It was... instinctive. Francis knew that the more time he'd spend with the boy, the more attached he'd become to him. It scared him... he didn't know what to do anymore. Should he just let go and let these new feelings take over ? Or should he keep himself from seeing Mathieu again ? The latest option seemed unbearable right now, as he looked at the boys naive smiles and gasps and ...

''Wow ! Can we go there, please ?'' Mathieu asked softly with childish excitement. Francis blinked and looked toward where the little blond was pointing. A garden. It was a very nice public garden. In fact, it was Francis' favourite after his own garden back at the estate.

''We may.'' Francis answered, smiling. He walked over to the garden let the boy down so that he could explore it. Francis followed not to far behind and smiled as he looked at the boy stopping in front of every kind of flower, smelling them and observing them very attentively, carefully. Mathieu was incredibly amazed. He could see details in the flowers -hues, lines, shapes- that were new to him. He knew those flowers, he knew their names and what they smelled... but it was as if he was seeing them for the first time. It felt incredible to him. Mathieu continued his cheerful adventure. His attention was stopped on one particular flower: the red rose. Mathieu knelt in front of the little bushes of roses admiring the flower for a long time. Francis knelt down beside him.

''You like these ones ?'' He asked kindly.

''Yes !'' Mathieu replied animatedly, delicately touching the petals. Mathieu laughed to himself. _Now I see why I didn't like these flowers... their thorns are so pointy !_ He mused to himself.

''Me too, they're my favourite, actually.'' Francis said, looking at the flowers himself. Mathieu looked up to the man. He had been so entranced by the 'new world' that he had completely forgot to thank his father ! Mathieu blushed in embarrassment and shame. He played with his fingers nervously.

''Th-thank you very much, mister Bonn-I mean, mister Chevalier.'' Mathieu's blush deepened at his mistake. He hoped the other man wouldn't be angry at him for this. Francis looked at the boy, a little surprised. Then his surprise quickly melted into fondness. The boy was too adorable... simply too adorable. He found himself smiling and ruffling the little blond's hair playfully.

''You're welcome, Mathieu. And you don't have to call me Chevalier anymore.'' He chuckled lightly. Mathieu stared at his father, heart fluttering lightly. He was so kind to him compared to their previous altercations. For Francis to ruffle his hair like that... it felt different than when Yong Soo did it. He liked it when Yong Soo did it, of course, but with Francis... He felt the need to please him, the need to make him proud. ''Now, let's go back.'' Francis said, lifting the little boy up again.

OoOoO

Yong Soo stood by a tall window, watching with a satisfied smile the father and son walk to the main door. _I knew it was a good idea, da ze !_ He screamed in his mind. He walked to the door, trying to not skip childishly, and opened it for the duo to come in. Even with all of Francis' make up, the two looked so much alike. ''Welcome home.'' He greeted politely, smiling widely. ''Did everything go well ?'' He asked, a little excited.

''It went quite well, yes.'' Francis answered. Both grown men blinked when Mathieu didn't say anything. Instead, the boy was just staring at Yong Soo. And quite intensely at that. The boy slid his little fists under his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He continued to stare Yong Soo.

''Is Yong Soo sick ?'' The boy asked worriedly. Both men blinked again, even more confused. Francis was the first one to get it. He burst out in laughter.

''Hahaha ! No, Mathieu. Yong Soo is not sick. That's just how people from his country look like.'' He kindly explained, though he was trying hard not to laugh again, not wanting to upset both the Asian and the little boy.

''Eh ?'' Mathieu blurted out, greatly confused. His vision had been so blurry. For him, everyone had looked the same. Sure, people had blond, red or brown hair... sure, some had darker skin than others... but Yong Soo's face looked so different from the others' ! His nose, his eyes... This time, it was Yong Soo who was laughing out loud. Francis let Mathieu down, who looked shamefully to the ground. Yong Soo finally calmed down and knelt in front of the little blond.

''It's alright, Mathieu. Lots of children think that even if they don't need glasses. There aren't many people like me in France.'' He chuckled. Mathieu smiled shyly, still a little embarrassed.

''Sorry...'' He apologized softly. Yong Soo ruffled his hair playfully and got up. ''Now, I bet you want to start learning how to read and write !''

''Oui !'' Mathieu replied excitedly.

''Then let's start right away !'' Yong Soo declared loudly, taking the little boy's hand and walked on to their usual room. Mathieu turned his head around and waved, smiling, at Francis. The nobleman's smile faded as he saw the two younger fellows leave the room. It was that feeling again... Jealousy.

OoOoO

Mathieu and Yong Soo had only been able to work for a couple of hours, but the Asian was impressed by the boy's quick learning. The boy was already able to write certain words. But now that Yong Soo thought about it, it wasn't really all that surprising. Alfted all, the boy had learned pretty much everything he had to learn twice: once with his mother and once with himself. The only thing he had lacked, was to associate what he knew with the now clear symbols in front of him. Yong Soo praised Mathieu animatedly, and the boy doubled in effort.

Soon enough, it was dinner time. After their noisy meal with the servants -the maid were fussing over little Mathieu, ashamed at themselves for not realizing that he had needed glasses- Mathieu had surprised Yong Soo greatly with a very unusual request. The boy had asked if he could be alone in his room for a while. Yong Soo, of course, found no harm it the request and had therefore allowed it. It was still rather strange. ''Just come and get me when you're ready to go to bed. I'll either be in my room or working in the kitchen.'' He had instructed the boy. Then, he had left, as asked, letting Mathieu alone in his room. After a while, Mathieu opened his room's door discretely, and looked around carefully, checking if anyone was there. Seeing no one, the boy silently slipped out of his room, a sheet of paper clutched to his chest. With short but fast steps, Mathieu ran through the hallways of the estate in search of Francis. He went to the dinning room -maybe he was eating?- but found no one. He went to the study room -maybe he was working ? Or writing a letter ?- But there, too, he did not find him. He did not know where the man's room was so he decided to try every room he encountered. It was only at the eleventh door that Mathieu found something of interest. He could not see mister Bonnefoy, but never in his long seven years of life had Mathieu seen so many books. They were everywhere ! Piled up tidily in tall shelved, so tall that there was a wooden ladder with little wheels to make it easier to grab the books. Mathieu stared, utterly amazed by the sight before him. His quest momentarily forgotten, Mathieu decided to explore the library. Some of the books looked incredibly old and other looked so... expensive ! With their massive leather covers, craved with golden letters... Mother had always said that books were like treasures. That you could find anything in books. Now that he'd finally be able to read, what treasures stood before him ? He couldn't wait, he couldn't wait !

''Mathieu ?'' Said boy jumped and gasped in surprised. He quickly turned to the source of the voice. There sat Francis himself, in a very comfortable chair, book in hand. The man was blond again and dressed in his usual luxurious attires. Mathieu swallowed hard, all his previous confidence lost. The man looked so much more imposing dressed like this.

''I... I-I just...'' Mathieu whispered nervously. Francis had probably not even heard him.

''It's quite late. Shouldn't you be in bed ? Where is Yong Soo ?'' The man asked, frowning a little. This was quite unusual. Mathieu trembled under the older man's frown. Was he angry at him ? Francis, however, was far from being angry at him. In fact, he was angry at someone else._ What is Yong Soo thinking ? Letting Mathieu alone in the house. What if he got lost ? What if he hurt himself ? I'll have to have a little talk with him tomorrow. _Noticing the little one's uneasy demeanour, Francis' expression softened.

''Do you need something, Mathieu ?'' He asked kindly. Mathieu shifted weigh from one foot to another nervously and, with a tentative steps, walked closer to the other man, holding out the paper he had kept securely in his arms so far. Francis' brows lifted in genuine curiosity and took the sheet of paper. His eyes widened as he saw what was on it. It was a drawing. A drawing of a rose bush. Francis had to admit that he was impressed by the drawing. The boy had used a nib and ink, seeing as there wasn't any proper drawing material in the estate, and although there were several smudged stains of ink and that the drawing itself was a bit clumsily executed, it truly was impressive for a child his age, and one who had just gotten glasses. The boy had obvious talent. On top of the sheet was the word ''Merci'' in a clumsy handwriting and at the bottom of the page, in the same childish handwriting, was ''mesieur Bonnefoua'' Francis smiled fondly at the silly spelling mistakes. He felt a wave of pride invading him. He also felt very moved by the boy's present. He had told the boy roses were his favourite flowers and... He looked fondly at the boy.

''Thank you, Mathieu.''

OoOoO

Yong Soo was panicking. Matthew had not been in his room when he had gone to go check on him and the Korean had been looking for the little boy for a good half of an hour. Where was that boy ? The Asian had to keep himself from eating his fingers with worry as he passed through the hallways of the Bonnefoy Manor. Several rooms were left unchecked. Soon enough, the dark-haired man found himself in front of the library. His master was usually in there this late in the evening. He doubted his master had seen the boy and doubted even more that the boy was in the room, but he better not skip a room, we never know...

When Yong Soo entered the library, he was surprised to hear his master's voice.

''...and so the princess said-'' He never read aloud. Quietly the tall Asian made his way through the many shelves of books until he came face to face with his master... and Mathieu. The sight before him was breathtaking, in Yong Soo's mind. He had never, never expected this: for Mathieu to be comfortably seated in Francis' lap as the father read a book to the child. The scene was very moving. The too of them looked like each other so much -seeing them this close and with Francis without any makeup or wigs- it was simply amazing. He had never seen such an expression on his master's face. There was no vice, no arrogance, but genuine happiness, discrete candour.

''...and thus they- ... Y-Yong Soo, what are you doing here ?'' Francis stopped his reading abruptly, finally noticing the other man's presence. He was a bit embarrassed to be found in such situation._ But what is there to be embarrassed of ?_ He asked himself. Shouldn't this be normal ? Shouldn't this be the kind of thing a father and a son are expected to do ? Francis realized, then, that he was not embarrassed of being found in this situation, but rather about the fact that he, himself, didn't feel at ease at being found in what should be a perfectly normal situation.

''I just came to take Mathieu to bed. It is rather late.'' Yong Soo explained to his master.

''Oh. I see.'' Was that disappointment in his voice ? Yong Soo mused happily. Mathieu looked up from the book his father had been reading to him and smiled to Yong Soo, rubbing his eyes gently.

''I'm a bit tired.'' He admitted in a soft voice.

''I'm sure you are !'' Yong Soo exclaimed, walking closer to the pair. He extended his arms and took Mathieu gently. He saw Francis frown a little. ''It was a long day for you, after all.'' He continued, ignoring the older blond's grimace. ''Let's get your face cleaned.'' Francis' frown grew deeper, though the eyes held more sadness and jealousy than annoyance. Yong Soo opened his mouth and was about to ask his master if he wanted to take care of it and put Mathieu to bed himself but he decided against it. Yong Soo had done more than enough. This time, Francis will be the one to act. If he wanted to take care of Mathieu, then he will have to come and take him himself. Yong Soo tried not to grin too much. ''Let's go.'' He said finally, and turned to leave.

Francis tightened his fists angrily, his nails digging into his skin. He wanted to do it. He wanted to take Mathieu in his arms and wash the little boy's adorable face and he wanted to kiss his forehead and wish him good night. But he couldn't. His mouth wouldn't open, no sound would come out ! Why ! Why was it so hard ? Why must his pride take the better of him ? All he could do was watch, weak, as Yong Soo walked toward the little maze of shelves. Before the young pair disappeared, Mathieu turned around and popped up behind Yong Soo's shoulder. The boy was smiling shyly and he waved his small hand at his father.

''Good night, mister Bonnefoy.'' He said sleepily. Francis instantly got up and extended his arm weakly, trying vainly to reach for his son. Again, no word would come out, aside from a weak and shaky.

''Bonne nuit... Mathieu...'' They disappeared behind the books and Francis fell back on his chair heavily, exhausted and humiliated. He heard the door of the library close. He stared into nothing for a long while. He eyes looked down on Mathieu's drawing which was set on the small table beside him. His heart fell as he finally came to realize one important detail... ''mesieur Bonnefoua'', it was written.

''Mister Bonnefoy.'' He repeated aloud. His eyes began to burn and soon, tears fell. He was a failure. He hid his eyes behind his hand, ashamed. ''It... It should have been ''papa''...'' He sobbed quietly, broken, shattered...

OoOoO

Yong Soo looked at the boy now comfortably seated in his bed, a little smile on his lips and glint of curiosity in his eyes. Mathieu kept putting on and taking off his glasses again and again. It was a funny sight to see. Yong Soo's smile faded, however, when the boy gently put his glasses on the bedside table, the saddest expression on his face. He stayed silent and continued to observe the boy. Said boy took his mother's letter under his pillow and his expression saddened more. Little tears shined in his eyes.

''It will take more lessons before you can read it... and it will take a while before you learn how to right in cursive letters...'' Yong Soo explained kindly. _The poor boy, _Yong Soo thought, _of course he wants to read that letter..._

''I know... I can wait... that's not-'' The boy could not finish his sentence, biting his lips trying not to let the tears fall. ''It's just... I-I've never truly seen my mother...'' He finally admitted. The tears fell at the confession, unable to contain them any longer. Yong Soo's eyes widened at that. The boy was right. He hadn't realized... Yong Soo gave the boy a kind smile. He took the boy's cheeks in his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. The boy looked at him sadly.

''The way you've always seen her is perfect, Mathieu. Because no matter how she looks, she is your mother. Has all the love she gave you changed with the way you see with these glasses ?'' He asked softly. The boy stared, silent. He shook his head weakly.

''N-non...'' He replied. Yong Soo's smiled widened.

''See ? That's what truly matters, Mathieu.''

The blond stared again. He smiled shyly, nodding.

* * *

**Please read:** ... o3o ... well... I hoped you enjoyed this chapter !

I'm a bit uncertain about the flow of the story... I'm afraid I might have rushed things a bit, but at the same time, I know several of you wanted progress on Francis' part... and honestly... so did I ! lol So I hope it's not too bad on that side.

NOW ! About Matthew... His apparent talent in drawing will have an extremely important purpose later in the story, but you'll have to wait lol. I just wanted to make it clear that the last thing I want to do is turn Matthew into some kind of garry-sue lol, so yeah... we just haven't seen what he sucks at yet.  
As for his sight, I inspired myself from what happened to someone in my family. His sight was kind of like Matthew's only, he got his glasses a little earlier -at five- and he actually told his parents they head big heads lol.

''Mesieur Bonnefoua'' is actually ''Monsieur Bonnefoy'' aka ''Mister Bonnefoy'' but misspelled. Matthew is a beginner in writing so he is writing according to how it sounds.

Bonne nuit – Good night

Thank you for reading and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW ;A; .... I love reviews... they make me happy lol.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia does not belong to me sad face.

**Note:** Thank you very much again for your kind reviews ! I wish I could write faster for you, my dearest readers... but unfortunately, I cannot. Blame lameness and laziness -kicks both of them-.

**ANNOUNCEMENT:** I got comments about grammar/spelling mistakes. I'm very sorry about those and I sincerely hope they do not break the flow of the story too much. Please note that English is not my mother tongue. Chances are there are mistakes that I simply cannot see yet. Also, I usually finish my chapters quite late and they have a fair number of pages, so when it's finished, I'm simply too tired/lazy to reread lol. And I don't want a beta, so... u.u I will try to correct them afterwards. I do encourage you, dear readers, to point out the mistakes to me, if it's not too much trouble, of course !

''Speech''

_Thoughts_

Enjoy !

* * *

**DIS PAPA**

Two weeks had passed and Mathieu was still diligently working on his alphabet and writing exercises. He showed great progress and Yong Soo had even taken the initiative of showing him the korean alphabet. Matthew was struggling quite a bit more to learn the symbols and the odd, guttural sounds that were associated with these characters, but the boy was a hard worker and he was driven by an unbreakable determination and motivation. It made Yong Soo tremendously happy to see this. Mathieu also had the advantage of being a child. _Children are just like sponges when they learn. They absorb everything quicker._ Yong Soo smiled and ruffled the little blond's hair affectionately as he watched him making his exercises.

He, then, meditated on the enormous progress that had been going on these past two weeks between the boy and his master. The first week, the boy had only returned twice to the library to ask his father to read a book to him. Mathieu had did so after he had tucked him into bed so that he wouldn't be scolded. Yong Soo, of course, had noticed the boy's evening expeditions, but had let him be. After all, it was for both the blonds' sakes. The second week, however, it seemed like Mathieu had gained confidence -and most likely, that Francis had made himself more agreeable- and went to see the older man more frequently. By the end of the week, it was every evening. That was when Yong Soo reconsidered the matter. Mathieu always went there rather late in the evening so that -he thought- Yong Soo wouldn't notice. However, this meant that he got less sleep and was more tired the next day... and it showed in the boy's work. There was also the fact that Mathieu always returned to his room alone, which he wasn't so fond of either. And he did get scolded by Francis for letting Mathieu wonder alone the first time the boy had gone to join him in the library. What was that old fart of a Frenchman thinking ? Scolding him for letting Mathieu alone then doing the exact same thing... Yong Soo let out a heavy sigh... that proud aristocrat was so stupid at times.

''Is something the matter, Yong Soo ?'' Mathieu asked worriedly. The Asian blinked. He really had sighed quite loudly, hadn't he ?

''Not at all Mathieu, sorry to have interrupted you.'' He smiled.

OoOoO

First evening of the third week came and this time, Yong Soo was standing by the door of Mathieu's bed room, waiting for the young boy to come out. He smiled a little as he thought about the boy. It seemed like Mathieu liked to be read stories to, for even when Yong Soo had just read him a book -instead of singing a lullaby- before sleep, he still would go to Francis' side. His musings were interrupted by the sound of little footsteps the other side of the door. He watched, bemused, as the door slowly, very slowly opened, letting half of Mathieu's face appear behind it. The boy looked his left side, checking carefully if anyone was there. Then, his eyes diverted to his right side. Bright blue eyes widened in surprised then in fear as they met Yong Soo's. He let out a little high-pitched gasp and quickly close the door. Yong Soo chuckled and entered the boy's room. The boy had already sprinted to his bed and was now completely hidden under the covers. Yong Soo laughed a little harder and went to the boy's side. He pulled the covers away, revealing a trembling little Mathieu, face hidden behind small chubby hands.

''What are you doing up so late, Mathieu ?'' The little boy did not answer. Yong Soo sighed a little and gently took away the boy's hands away from his face. Mathieu looked down, feeling greatly ashamed for his actions. He had broken the rules and lied to Yong Soo. The Asian smiled when he saw the little boy's guilty expression. He gently stoke his hair, making the boy relax and finally look up to him.

''I'm not angry at you, Mathieu.'' Yong Soo said calmly, smiling. ''In fact, I'm pleased to see that you and your father seem to be getting along.'' His smiled turned into a playful disproving frown.''You could just have told me, Mathieu. What were you afraid of ? If I had known you wanted to go every night, we could have had arranged this so that you wouldn't have to stay up so late.'' He added, his tone a little more serious for his last statement. Mathieu stayed downcast, pondering on his actions.

''But...'' Mathieu started hesitantly, looking down at his fingers.

''But ?'' Mathieu hesitated again, opening his mouth then closing it instantly. He blushed a little, suddenly feeling shy.

''But if we do that...'' He tried to looked into Yong Soo's eyes, glasses almost falling off his nose. ''...you won't sing or read stories to me anymore.'' Mathieu confessed sadly. Needless to say, this had caught the Asian off guard. He had underestimated the attachment that Mathieu felt for him. _The child just lost his mother... he's clinging to all the attention he gets... I should have known._ Yong Soo reasoned in his mind. He smiled fondly at the boy, taking his little hands in his.

''That's not true, Mathieu. I can read or sing to you any time.'' He reassured the boy. ''But I think that doing it before bed time... is something that mister Bonnefoy should be doing.'' He explained softly, gently squeezing Mathieu's hands. ''Don't you agree ?'' The little boy stared at him and Yong Soo saw the boy's eyes moist. He could tell that the boy was fighting back the tears... very hard. The boy blinked repeatedly, feeling his eyes itchy, and try to opened his mouth, but his lips were trembling... and he knew that he wouldn't be able to speak without crying. He chose to nod instead. Looking at the boy's weak, yet desperate nod broke Yong Soo's heart. Mathieu not only agreed with him, he wanted so badly for his father to read to him, sing to him... just pay attention to him... love him. Yong Soo could only understand. The poor boy was in a very fragile state and was afraid of rejection, which probably explained why the child didn't want to let go of him either. Because if did and that Francis rejected him, who would he have left ?

''Let's go, now.'' Yong Soo said softly, taking the boy in his arms. Matthew looked up to him, a little surprised.

''Where ?'' The little blondinet asked, confused.

''To see mister Bonnefoy.'' He winked, taking the boy in his arms.

''I'm allowed to ?'' The boy asked again, even more confused.

''Of course !'' Yong Soo replied animatedly. Matthew blinked then smiled gently, wiping a few tears.

OoOoO

In the library, Francis thought he could not be happier at the moment. He was sitting at his chair, a pile of books on the table beside it. He looked through them quickly, a happy smile on his features. Which one would Mathieu prefer ? Would he like poetry best ? Or maybe he'd rather continue that story from last night ? A knock on the door stopped his musings. He smiled and gave permission to enter. His smiled instantly disappeared when Yong Soo came in view.

''Mister Bonnefoy.'' Yong Soo greeted with a smile, clearly amused at his master annoyed expression. ''Good evening.''

''... Good evening, Yong Soo.'' Keeping annoyed growls for himself, he looked as Yong Soo gently set Mathieu on the ground.

''I found Mathieu awake, sneaking out of his room. I was wondering what punishment you had reserved for him.'' Yong Soo asked, smiling innocently. There was a long pause. Both father and son seemed surprised, guilty and worried at the same time.

''...punishment, you say ?'' Francis repeated quietly, thinking he might have misheard the Asian.

''Indeed, sir !'' Yong Soo confirmed with enthusiasm. ''Mathieu disobeyed and it is quite late, after all !'' Francis was speechless. He didn't want to punish Mathieu ! The poor boy didn't deserve it ! In fact, it was his own fault if the boy was up so late...

Yong Soo eyed his master with expectant eyes. If his master had made any progress with his damned pride, he would take the blame. If he didn't he would punish Mathieu to keep up appearances. He spared a furtive glace at the little blond. Yong Soo felt guilty for playing such a trick on the boy, but it was for his own good. He wouldn't let Francis punish him anyways, supposing the noble decided to do so.

''Mathieu shall not be punished. It was my own fault.'' Francis said, eyeing the tall butler judgmentally.

''Is that so ?'' Yong Soo smiled. ''Then I apologize, sir.'' He bowed, more than satisfied with his master's answer. He smiled again when he heard the little boy sigh in relief.

''Don't apologize... I should be the one apologizing...'' Francis said in a calm tone, getting up from his chair. Yong Soo stared at his master. This was more than he had dared hoping. His surprise grew with Francis' next words. ''I was selfish and let Mathieu come here alone so late in the evening.'' Francis walked up to the little boy and gently picked him up. Mathieu blushed shyly and smiled. Francis smiled back to the child and spoke again. ''From now on, please bring him here every night at a respectable hour.'' And with that, Francis walked back to his chair and sat, setting the little boy on his comfortably on his thighs and knees. Yong Soo was still staring. He blinked. He smiled.

''Of course, sir !'' He yelled. Then, a thought occurred in his mind. ''Shall I go fetch him later then, so that I can put him to bed ?'' He asked hesitantly.

''Ah... well... uhm... Yes. Yes, you shall.'' He blabbered uneasily. Mathieu's smile seemed to fade a little, as did Yong Soo's.

''Very well, sir.'' Yong Soo said with much less vividness and left the room. Francis cursed himself silently for being such a coward. When the younger man left, Francis looked down to the little boy on his lap and smiled.

''What would you like me to read tonight, Mathieu ?'' Francis gently asked, inviting the little boy to look into the pile of books he had prepared from him. ''Would you like to continue the story about the cat ?''

''Hm...'' Mathieu mused cutely, looking through the books with careful hands. His eyes caught a small journal-like book at the farthest corner of the small table. The boy blinked and reached for the book. It was very different from the others. It had a simple, brown leather cover and nothing was written on it. ''What is this one about ?''

''Ah, I don't think you will like this one, Mathieu.'' Francis explained gently.

''Why ?'' Mathieu asked, cocking his head to the side a little.

''You are a bit too young. I'm sure you will find it boring.'' The older man chuckled, taking the book away from the boy. ''It's the personal notes of a man during his journey in the New World.'' He continued, setting the book back on the table.

''The New World ?'' Mathieu repeated slowly.

''Yes. This man, Jacques Cartier, left France to find the New World. A world where only savages live.'' Mathieu stared, wide-eyed, letting a long and soft 'oh' escape his mouth. The boy's eyes were sparkling with curiosity and amazement.

''Can you read it to me, please ?'' He asked clapping his hands together in excitement.

''Are you sure, Mathieu ? The book is nothing but long descriptions...'' Francis trailed off.

''Yes, please.'' Mathieu asked politely, smiling.

''Very well then...'' Francis chuckled again and took the book. He shuffled through the first pages of introduction and went straight to the explorer's words. ''Sait-Malo 20 avril 1534...''

OoOoO

''...and what we saw there, on the ice, was a great bear, taller than any of my men. Its fur was as white as the snow around us...'' Francis stopped reading, spending a quick glance at the little boy on his lap. He bit back a chuckle. The boy's eyes were wide open, sparkling with utmost awe, his mouth parted. The boy was captivated by each of his words.

''...wow... white bears ?'' Mathieu repeated, not believing his ears.

''It is quite surprising indeed !'' Francis said, mimicking the little boy's surprise, wanting to accompany him in his enthusiasm. Not very long passed for the two blonds before the was another knock on the door. Yong Soo entered the library, bowed lightly and walked to the pair.

''It is time for Mathieu to go to bed.'' He said, smiling to the little boy.

''Can't I stay a little longer, please ?'' The little boy asked politely. Yong Soo looked fondly at the boy, but as adorable as the request was...

''I'm afraid not, Mathieu. It is far too late.'' With that, the Asian took the boy in his arms. ''Say goodnight to mister Bonnefoy, alright ?'' Mathieu turned his head to his father and waved at the man.

''Goodnight mister Bonnefoy.'' The little boy said before resting his blond head on the Asian's shoulder. Mathieu closed his eyes. The little lad was rather tired.

''...Goodnight, Mathieu...'' Francis answered back weakly, not liking the scene before him. As Yong Soo walked towards the door, Francis rose from his seat, ready to stop the man. He extanded his arm, but the gesture was vain, as the duo far out of reach. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Yong Soo exited the room through the door, which closed slowly behind them. Francis clenched his first angrily. Angry at himself. He looked down the floor. ''I'm so... argh !'' He shook his head frustratedly and ran toward the door. He quickly opened it. He saw Yong Soo, who was barely a few steps in front of him, turn around, seeming only half-surprised. The Asian stared at his slightly panting master with a growing smirk. Mathieu, for his part, rose his head and blinked innocently at the man with not the slightest idea of what was going on.

''Something wrong, sir ?'' Yong Soo asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Francis growled a bit in frustration, not liking how insolent his servant was -and not wanting to admit one minute that he was actually quite embarrassed by his sudden action. ''I beg your pardon, sir ?'' Yong Soo asked again.

''I said... I'll put Mathieu to bed.'' Francis repeated, blushing. Mathieu's eyes widened and gain a sudden brightness. His smile betrayed his modesty and Francis could only be happy for it as he smiled back at the little boy. Yong Soo's gaze softened at the sight. He gently handed Mathieu over to Francis. And Yong Soo could not help but feel incredibly proud. Proud at his master for making incredible progress, but also proud at himself for contributing to this happy event. He looked, heart fluttering slightly at the loveliness of the scene, as Francis hugged the little boy close to his heart, burying his nose in those silky, soft blond hair. The Frenchman closed his eyes and Yong Soo could feel what the man was feeling. It looked as though his child had been ripped away from him for years and then, he was suddenly given back to him. Well, Yong Soo though, it is essentially the case. Francis stayed silent for a while, embracing the little boy almost desperately into his arms. Neither of the older men could see the young boy's face. It was better this way, as the sight would have been heartbreaking. Dear Mathieu was fighting back tears. He, too, clung to his father with happiness that could not be named. He hid his face shyly in his father's shoulder, not wanting the two men to see his moist eyes. Francis finally loosened his grip on the little boy and looked at Yong Soo, embarrassed.

''... could... you show me where his room is ?'' He felt incredibly stupid. He didn't even know where Mathieu had been sleeping all this time !

''Of course, sir.'' Yong Soo replied softly. He couldn't bring himself to tease his master about it. The man didn't deserve it at the moment. His own his self-inflicted embarrassment was good enough of a punishment. ''This way, please.'' He gestured toward the stairs and the two men walked on.

Francis was not surprised to find his boy's room to be right next to his servant's, but that didn't mean he wasn't bothered by it. Francis looked furtively at his servant, who wished both blonds goodnight before entering his room. Mathieu, of course, eagerly wished goodnight to his caretaker as well, waving at him childishly. Then, father began to feel slightly awkward at their situation, while son was completely obvious to his father's nervousness. The older man penetrated the room and he stopped dead in his track when he saw what it looked like. Francis had never bothered to enter the servants' quarters. He was, least to say, surprised at the plainness and the size of the room. The decoration and the furniture was incredibly dull. The bed was small, the walls, the the bedsheets, the curtain, everything was so dark ! Too dark for a little boy like Mathieu... Francis swallows heavily and slowly walked to the bed. Yong Soo, before Mathieu's little escapade, had already taken care of the boy's bedtime ritual; he was already in his sleeping gown and his hygiene had been taken care of as well. Francis wished he had taken care of it himself. He gently laid Mathieu in his bed and tucked him in securely into the warmth of the covers. He brushed away a few strands of golden locks and smiled at the little boy, who smiled back at him.

''Goodnight, Mathieu. Sleep well.'' Francis said calmly.

''Thank you, you as well mister Bonnefoy.'' The boy answered shyly. Francis hesitated for a second. Cheeks blushing, the man leaned in and kissed the boy's forehead. His heart was fluttering in happiness. It felt right, it felt good. Yet, it was such a simple gesture. Francis realized what he had been missing all those years. And it hurt him deeply. He looked fondly at Mathieu, who closed his eyes, sleepiness finally taking over him. The boy looked like a little angel. His expression was so peaceful, happy. Even when the boy was deeply asleep, Francis stayed there, simply looking at him.

OoOoO

The next morning, Francis sat, as usual, in the breakfast room. The man hadn't even touched his food. He kept staring dreamily at the window, thinking of his little Mathieu. How peaceful his slumber was, how cute the little nonsense the boy muttered in his sleep was... Francis sighed, smiling.

''Hm... Are you alright, mister Bonnefoy ?'' A young servant asked, bringing the man a cup of coffee. Francis stayed unresponsive for a few seconds, then blinked confusedly.

''I beg your pardon ?''

''Are you alright, sir ?''

''Oh, oh yes. Yes of course. Thank you.'' He dismissed the girl, quickly going back to his musings. The servant stared before leaving the breakfast room.

As she entered the kitchen, the servant was rather shocked to see the strangely uncomfortable atmosphere. She blinked as Yong Soo and Mathieu ate silently in a corner of a counter, the older man seemingly distracting the young boy with what she assumed to be korean vocabulary. At the other side of the room, near the ovens, stood most of the servants. It was rare to see so many of them at the same place. What was going on ? She walked to the group, who were whispering among themselves.

''-yes, quite strange indeed. Surely we have been deceived somewhere...'' The servant heard as she managed to clear herself a path into the little group.

''What's going on ?'' The servant asked, genuinely confused.

''Ah, Mathilde, there you are. We'd like to have your opinion.'' A rounded woman said, frowning a little. ''Don't you find this strange ?''

''... what exactly should I find strange, madame ?''

''Mathieu, of course ! Young Soo said he was the son of a certain relative. This makes no sense ! He's been eating with us -the servant- and he's been staying here for a while, now, and we haven't seen the poor boy's parents !'' The woman said, a little louder this time, making sure Yong Soo had heard. Mathilde bit her lip. The woman was right, after all.

As the group shamelessly continued on their gossips, Yong Soo was silently panicking. This would cause tremendous problems. And this, of course, was nothing compared to the problems that will appear should Mathieu's presence here be known to the society. Yong Soo looked down to the little boy, worried. The boy was looking at his food with utter disinterest. Mathieu did not have the slightest of appetite. He felt too uncomfortable. Just as he had lived one of the happiest moment of his life the night before, reality had to rub the truth cruelly in his face. His illegitimate existence was something that Francis was ashamed of, something that could bring disaster into his and his father's lives. The little boy blinked as he felt Yong Soo's hand gently pat his back.

''Don't worry about it, da ze.'' He smiled, trying to sound as convincing and relaxed as possible. ''Mister Bonnefoy and I will take care of this. Finish your meal, now.''

''... okay.'' The boy said weakly, not easily fooled. Mathieu could clearly see the uneasiness in his caretaker's eyes. Looking back down at his plate, Mathieu poked the food with his fork, wondering what would become of him from now on.

Yong Soo looked sadly at him. He wish such a young and sweet child didn't have to worry about his future like this. It was simply unacceptable.

OoOoO

Yong Soo left young Mathieu to the care of Mathilde, duties calling him. As soon as he had settled up the servants' chores for the day, Yong Soo was called upon again.

''Your presence is requested at the main door, mister Im.'' A servant said politely. Yong Soo quickly walked there and was pleased to see that about a quarter of his order of clothes for Mathieu had arrived. Two large chests were transported by two rather tall valets. The set the chests in the lobby and, after Yong Soo had paid them their due, left the estate. Yong Soo opened the fest chest and nodded approvingly at what he saw. The clothes were neatly folded in very light silk fabrics and were made, as expected, from the finest material and the finest taste. His smiled widened, letting his white teeth open to the world, as he imagined how adorable Mathieu would look in that sailor-like white and blue suit... oh, and that assorted hat ! Yong Soo eagerly looked further into the content of the large chest. There, this coat was splendid with the little fur around the extremities of it.

''Are these all Mathieu's ?'' A nearby servant asked. Yong Soo was startled by the sudden question. He turned toward a middle-aged lady.

''Yes.'' He answered simply, blinking. The lady frowned.

''Strange. Why were they not sent here earlier ?'' She said walking closer to the opened chest. ''I've been wondering why Mathieu kept wearing these poor-looking outfits all the time. And always the same three ones.'' She reached the clothes and looked at them closely. Yong Soo swallowed nervously. ''...these are brand new clothes...'' She stated, surprised.

''Yes.'' Yong Soo confirmed again. The lady turned around, hands on either sides of her hips.

''I demand an explanation, mister Im.''

''I beg your pardon ?'' Yong Soo asked, vainly trying to avoid the subject.

''You know perfectly well. Why have we not seen the boy's parents yet ? Why is he here at all ?'' The lady said, her tone rising with each word. Yong Soo sighed.

''I'm sorry, miss Fortier, but I am in no position to reveal anything. Please wait for mister Bonnefoy to speak about the matter himself.'' He asked gently, soft voice, hoping that his abnormally calm tone would make the lady realize the gravity of the situation. The lady, of course, noticed this. She was used to the cheerful attitude of the Asian and, therefore, calmed down. The short, but nonetheless awkward moment passed without a word being uttered. The lady's mouth opened again.

''Why does the boy look so strikingly like the master ?'' Asked she, yet, to both servants, it didn't sound like a question. Yong Soo could see in the woman's eyes that she knew, at least, that the boy was much closer in blood than a distant relative's son. Yong Soo said nothing. Instead, he shook his head in a silent apology and turned around, taking one of the chests with him and left to Mathieu's room.

After he had brought the clothes to the boy's room, Yong Soo walked straight to the master's study, his pace much faster than necessary. Yong Soo was more and more alarmed with each passing minute. He knew this would be coming sooner or later, but he had let himself be overwhelmed by the precious time he had been spending with the boy, and the time the boy had been spending with his father. Now, it was time to act. To set things good. At least within the estate. Yong Soo knocked on the door, but didn't bother waiting for his master's reply. He knew he was going to be reprimanded about it, but he couldn't care. Upon entrance, he saw the man standing by the window, neglecting his daily duties as a Marquis.

''Sir, I-''

''Ah, Yong Soo !'' The Frenchman exclaimed, smiling widely. ''Good, I was about to call for you.'' Yong Soo blinked, he had not expected this.

''Sir ?''

''The drawing room, the one right beside my private room, I would like you to empty it and redecorate it. It will be Mathieu's room.'' Yong Soo gaped. He smiled, happy to hear the news, but then, he remembered what he had came here for.

''That is great news, sir, but I come to speak to you of an important matter.'' Yong Soo said, the wavering of his voice betraying his calm tone. Francis frowned, annoyed.

''Then speak.'' He said rudely.

''Sir, the servants are suspicious of Mathieu's true reason for his presence. I believe some of them might even suspect he is your child.'' Francis stayed mute for a long minute, all previous cheerfulness and annoyance completely gone. His shoulders fell and he stared at Yong Soo as if he had only realized now that Mathieu's presence was actually truly problematic. Probably, Yong Soo thought, it was the case. Francis was used to having things he wanted by simply asking and not having truly important issues to deal with. He pitied his master for his cluelessness. Francis turned around and looked at nothing in particular. He rubbed his beard nervously, deep in thought. Then, the man sighed.

''I will explained the truth. What else is there to do ? Them living in my own estate, it is impossible -and too late- to fool them with another story.'' Yong Soo could only agree. He pitied his master for having to deal with this, although the man had brought this upon himself, with his life of debauch. Yong Soo pitied Mathieu even more. ''Take Mathieu with you, play with him or something... I shall upon all the servants and talk to them.'' Francis declared solemnly, silently praying to God that all would go well.

OoOoO

Yong Soo and Mathieu sat at their desks with little enthusiasm. The Asian was teaching the boy -or at least trying too, with the energy that was left in him- the korean alphabet. Mathieu dutifully copied down the strange looking symbols, but his mind was completely elsewhere. Yong Soo had told Mathieu of the situation and was now worrying about the servants' reaction. He sincerely thought that it likely won't be very bad, seeing as most of the servants -especially the ladies- seemed quite fond of him. However, there were a few of them whom he did not know very well and therefore did not know how they would take the news. Yong Soo seemed reading his mind as he voiced the comfort he needed.

''Don't worry, Mathieu. Despite what one might think at first glance, Francis is a very respectable man. The majority of us, the servants, owe him our life. It is not common for a nobleman to take in as servant a foreigner, like me, or a homeless or an ex-pros-'' Yong Soo stopped himself, a little embarrassed. Mathieu's mother was a prostitute and he didn't want to wake painful memories in the boy. He wasn't even sure if the boy knew his mother was a prostitute and he was even less sure if the boy knew what it meant. He didn't want to explain it to the innocent child. At least not now.

''An ex-what ?'' Mathieu repeated, blinking in confusion.

''It doesn't matter, what I mean is that whether some servants approve or not of your presence here, they owe much to the master.'' Yong Soo smiled to the boy, patting his shoulder gently. ''And it is rather hard to find a job these days, especially one that pays well like this one.'' He winked to the boy. Francis does pay rather well, compared to what he had learned from servants of other households. Mathieu seemed to relax a bit and smiled to his caretaker before turning back to his exercises. Yong Soo, although he knew all this, couldn't help but worry still. The risks were still there.

OoOoO

Francis contemplated his servants for a good long minute. Needless to say, the rich man was nervous beyond words. He also felt a little silly for being nervous. He knew -he could feel it in the gaze of his servants- that most of them had already guessed the truth. The evidences were such that it was hard to come to a different conclusion. Francis sighed. It was the first time he had all his servants gathered in the same spot and even though he was the master, he felt incredibly small and intimidated. Gathering all his courage, the Frenchman finally dared to speak.

''I assume you have all made assumptions concerning young Mathieu and I.'' He started as calmly as he could. His slightly wavering voice was betraying his facade horribly. The servants, as expected, stayed silence. What Francis couldn't see, though, was that the servants were quite worried about their master. It was the first time, since the death of his respectable parents, that they had seen the man so weak. It was a different kind of weakness, though. While back then it had been true sadness, this time the master seemed lost, anxious.

''And your assumptions are mostly likely to be accurate. I will put this simply. Mathieu is my illegitimate son.'' Francis stared, not a gasp came out, a great majority of the servants didn't even look remotely surprised. He had expected this, still... He continued, not knowing what else to do. ''He was conceived during one of my nightly escapades roughly seven years ago. The mother is dead. I learned all of this the very day Mathieu first came into this house.'' At this, some of the servants looked down, pitying the little child, some looked shocked and Francis could even feel a few glares coming from some of the ladies. He knew what they were thinking. They probably thought he was a irresponsible, perverted man. A lady of strong character stepped forth and voiced her opinion.

''You are not treating him like your son.'' She stated simply, looking Francis with stern, calculating eyes. Francis blinked, taken aback by the sudden statement. ''His is sleeping in our quarters, eating with us... what kind of father are you ? Mathieu's past wouldn't be an issue if you treated him like he deserves to be treated !'' Sounds of approbations followed from the rest of the servants. Francis blinked again. He had been mistaking. While he was afraid the servants might denounce Mathieu's existence, they were actually disapproving the way he was treating his son.

''She's right !'' Another lady said, stepping beside the previous one. A whole new fear grew in Francis, one far more intense than the first one. Were the servants going to take Mathieu away from him ? Because he didn't deserve him ? Panicking Francis spoke again, this time not bothering to put on a calm mask.

''I know ! I know ! I have been miserable to him. I do not deserve him...'' Francis' heart was racing so fast and so hard, driven by panic. ''But I beg you... I beg you not to take him away from me... He is my child, and I want to be a father to him... please... at least for his sake. He needs me. He needs a father... and I need him...'' Francis closed his eyes, head downcast. He put a hand on his forehead, half hiding his eyes in the process. He didn't want his servants to see the tears that were gathering in his eyes. Saying this aloud made him realize how much guilt he had been accumulating the past weeks.

The room was dead silent. The servants looked worriedly at each other, then at their master. Perhaps they had indeed made a hasty judgement of their master. The man truly seemed to regret his actions and they knew, deep down, that Francis Bonnefoy was a very good man. They felt very grateful for all the things their master had done for them -modest or not- and for that reason, they would never betray him. The gardener stepped forward and went to his master's side, tapping his shoulder lightly.

'' 's fine, master. We won't wont take away from you. Though we'll watch closely, eh ?'' The large man said teasingly, lightening the mood. The man was quite fond of the little boy himself. He liked how Mathieu seemed to appreciate nature and how respectful he was of it. He always looked at the plants and trees attentively, very carefully brushing the flowers and leaves with his little fingers. He had also noticed how the boy seemed to like to draw nature and was genuinely impressed by the boy's talent. For all those reasons, the gardener would do everything to protect the boy, as has never had the happiness of having children. He'd help the child having a father, even if it was by simply keeping a secret. The man smiled when his master's surprised eyes met his. He saw infinite gratefulness in them. Francis also shared the look with the rest of his servants, who all nodded in approbation at the gardener's words.

''Thank you.'' Francis bowed.

OoOoO

''You have called for me, sir ?'' Yong Soo asked hesitantly as he entered his master's study room. As soon as he saw the other man's happy expression, all worries faded away. It had apparently gone very well.

''Yes, I have.'' Francis said, all smiles. ''I have decided to take care of Mathieu's new room myself. I shall call the painter and buy the furniture at this instant. I'm hoping to be done by the end of this day so that Mathieu can sleep in his new bed tonight.'' He said gathering a few papers on his desk before turning to Yong Soo again. ''Just take good care of him while I'm gone.''

''Of course, sir.'' Yong Soo replied, bowing. He, then, eagerly exited the room, excited to tell the news to his little protégé.

OoOoO

Francis had asked some of the servants to empty the drawing room and rip off the wallpaper. While they did that, the nobleman wondered ingenuously through the alleys of the city, looking with calculating eyes at the different fabrics, furniture, toys, curtains and whatnot. He wondered what colours would fit his little angel best. He regretted that he didn't know him better, but pushed the feeling aside. If he wanted to be happy with his son, he'd have to let go of the past and make a better future. He went back to his musings as he entered a shop. Mathieu was cheerful, but calm and timid. He was a happy child. He was soft and kind. He likes nature. Pastel colours would fit him best. Pale blue and pale green. Yes, that would fit him perfectly. He talked to the owner of the shop and gave him the appropriate measurements for curtains and several assorted sets of bedding: bedspreads, cushions and pillows, bedsheets, curtains for the four poster bed...

''I would like to have at least one set ready for tonight.'' Francis informed. The owner, also the tailor, stared at him wide eyed. Francis worried not; all was settled when the good amount of money was given. He excited the shop, satisfied.

Francis walked into several other shops, getting similar scenes. Francis was very, very glad to be rich. As he walked on, the rich man came across several toys shops. Francis figured that, being an only child, much like him, he'd surely enjoy have several toys to occupy him. He smiled to himself choosing toys almost at random, ignored the blinking stares that were directed at him. A few children, accompanied by their parents, envied the child who had such a zealous father. Francis noticed a few figures of various animals. He was especially impressed by how realistic the horses looked. He bought some. And an idea was born. I should buy him a pony ! I'm sure Mathieu would love horseback riding. He exclaimed happily in his mind, determined to get his little boy the cutest pony he would find. Smiling to himself, Francis continued with his errands.

Francis came back into the soon-to-be-Mathieu's room happy to see it empty and ready to be decorated. Francis regretted that he couldn't have lunch with his little boy, but surely, the little blond would forgive him when he would see his room. Without loosing another instant, the man called the decorators and painters.

OoOoO

Dinner time came and Francis sighed in relief. Barely anything was left to do; the last furniture would be delivered soon enough. Francis -for the first time since he was but a small child- went to the kitchens. Needless to say that the cooks there were surprised of his presence.

''What does Mathieu like eating best ?'' He asked. He had never ate with the boy and therefore did not know of his tastes concerning food. He didn't know much about the boy at all, but food was a god way to start.

''Well, he is a sweet tooth. He likes chicken best when it comes to meat and his favourite meal are crêpes.'' The cook explained, though not quite understanding the purpose of this sudden interrogatory.

''Very well.'' Francis nodded, mentally taking note of this. ''Tonight is a special night. Please prepare something special for Mathieu. Everything he likes. You could make chicken with chocolate sauce for example, it's quite popular right now in the restaurants in town.'' He suggested smiling to the cook.

''Very well, sir.'' The cook nodded and promptly started to cook. Francis nodded approvingly, then turn to one of the maids.

''Mathieu will eat at my table tonight, and for the nights to follow. And every morning and every lunch.'' Francis declared, his tone serious and playful at the same time. ''Set the table accordingly.''

''Of course, sir !'' The maid replied with much enthusiasm.

OoOoO

Upon entering the dinning room, Francis noticed with a light frown on his features that his and Mathieu's pate where a little too far apart for his liking. He calmly walked up to their seats and moved their plates and various utensils closer together. Their plate were on each side of one of the corners of the grand table, which fitted Francis perfectly; if they had been on opposite sides of the table, they would be too far apart, the same way that if they had been right beside each other, Francis wouldn't have been able to look at his son while eating. The maid -silently standing in the corner of the room near the door- noted her master's action and smiled fondly at the sight. Most maids had been very jealous of her when they learn the two blond would be eating together for the first time and that she was the one on duty to serve dinner that night. She smiled in excitement. Francis nodded to himself, smiling and sat at his usual seat. He looked at what was already served on the table and his smiled widened. It looked remarkably tasty -if not a little too sweet for his own tastes- and knew Mathieu would certainly like this. Several kinds of fruits and bread was served, along with butter and honey. There was cold meat and creamy cheese -not the usual strong cheese Francis preferred- and a generous jar of fresh milk. Let's not forget, of course, the magnificent bouquet of roses at the centre of the table, which was in a most exquisite pot of fine chinese porcelain. The main dishes would be served when Mathieu would arrived. He couldn't wait. As he sat there silently, Francis began to feel strangely nervous. He tried to reason himself, finding his reaction silly, but had to resigned as his inner speech only made him more nervous. He had to admit to himself that he was scared. He was truly trying to bond with his son and was scared of rejection more than anything else. He prayed to God he had done nothing wrong. Knocks on the door were heard and Francis felt a wave of sudden nervousness attack him full force. He stood from his seat and silently gestured to the made to open the door.

Yong Soo walked in, his hand linked with Mathieu, whose head was a little downcast in a very shy and adorable manner. Francis noted that the child was dressed in a new outfit -a very, very fine looking one at that, and it seemed that the angelic sight made Francis' anxiety vanish. He smiled as he walked to the pair. He knelt in front of the young boy and noticed a faint pinkish tone to Mathieu's cheeks. Yong Soo let go of Mathieu's hand a took a short step back. Francis smiled fondly and found simply adorable how Mathieu's eyes kept themselves shyly on the floor. It seemed Mathieu was a little scared as well. He'd have to take care of this. It wouldn't do for a boy to be scared of his own father !

''Bonsoir Mathieu, you look tremendously adorable in these clothes. Just like a little prince.'' Francis said softly. What he said was then complete truth. The boy was wearing a silky white blouse over which he wore a pale blue sleeveless suit with discrete Victorian embroidered designs on it. He wore dark blue shorts -assorted with his freshly polished dark blue shoes- and knee-high white socks. Francis also noticed that part of his silky blond hair were tied back with a dark blue ribbon in a similar fashion of his own.

''Merci.'' The boy replied in the tiniest voice. Unable to hold back, Francis enveloped the little prince in a warm, protecting and loving embrace. The boy, although surprised at first, wrapped his short arms around his father's waist, shyly answering to the hug. Francis closed his eyes and smelled deeply the boy's hair. He smiled and broke them embrace, though instantly picking up the child in his warms, walking back to their respective seats. Francis set the child on his chair -on which a cushion was put to rise the child on appropriate level- then took his own seat. Yong Soo bowed to them.

''Bon appétit.'' He said, smiling, and exited the room. Mathieu looked nervously at his father.

''Yong Soo cannot eat with us ?'' He asked hesitantly. Francis shifted uneasily on his chair. He had almost forgotten that Mathieu was not used to the life of nobles and the way things worked.

''No, Mathieu. That's not how things work.'' He explained as gently as possible, not wanting to upset the child. Mathieu blinked, not quite understanding what this meant.

''Why ?''

''The servants do not eat with the master and his family.'' Mathieu blushed at the mention of family. He smiled a little, though he still didn't understand why Yong Soo couldn't eat with them. He still found strange how everyone worked for Francis. Did his father have a job ? Where did all the money come from ?

''I see.'' He said softly, too shy to ask for further explanations. Mathieu's eyes diverted on the food and they widened hungrily at the sight. It looked very tasty and the way it was presented was very elegant as well. Just as he was about to ask permission to dig in, the door opened to reveal one of the servants who came in with a little table on wheels, then, leaving the tray there, the servant left. The young lady that had been standing silently by the door went to their side and filled their bowls with soup. Then, she gently added a few seasonings and a little parsley leaf on top. She set the bowls in front of the two blonds. Then, she turned to Mathieu.

''Would you like cream in your soup, Mathieu ?'' She asked politely. Cream sounded very good to Mathieu, but his shyness made him hesitate. He nodded silently, blushing. The girl smiled and took a porcelain gravy boat, in which was the cream, and poured some in the boy's soup. Mathieu watched in amazement as the maid traced a rather sophisticated and elegant design in the soup with the flow of the cream. He half heard the lady ask if Francis wanted some.

''No, thank you.'' The lady bowed, then returned to the tray. Mathieu was still staring at his soup. How was he supposed to eat this ? It was too beautiful, he didn't want to destroy it !

''Would you like wine with your _potage_, sir ?''

''I will wait until the main dish, thank you Nadine.'' She bowed then served the man a generous glass of water, knowing the man preferred water to milk.

''Would you like milk or water ?'' She said, turning to Mathieu. Mathieu blinked and put his hand on his pink lips.

''Milk, please.'' He said in his tiny voice, a little uncomfortable. The lady served him a fresh glass of milk and returned to her spot by the door. Francis took his spoon and looked at Mathieu -who was still staring at his soup, unmoving- and chuckled at the sight.

''Are you not hungry, Mathieu ?'' He asked, a hit of gentle mockery in his tone. Mathieu blushed shyly and took his spoon in his hand. He watched as his father slowly moved his spoon from a side to another of the soup, mixing the seasoning without making the soup splash around. Mathieu imitated his father, thinking it was the safest thing to do. ''How was your day ? Did you learn new things ?'' Francis said good naturally, braking the silence. Mathieu nodded, smiling modestly.

''Oui. Yong Soo started showing me his alphabet.'' He said, his voice held pride. Francis blinked, not quite understanding what the boy meant. Then, it hit him.

''You are learning Korean ?'' Francis asked a little incredulous. Mathieu nodded, blushing. ''Oh, I see. Interesting.'' Francis smiled. ''And are you making progresses in reading and writing ?'' Mathieu nodded again. Francis smiled. The boy really was shy; he never spoke more than necessary. He wished he'd loosen up a little with him, though. Francis took a sip of his soup and noticed Mathieu do the same. He blinked as he saw how Mathieu was holding his spoon and how he was eating the soup. He held it like peasants did, with their fist, like they held their pitchfork. ''There now, Mathieu, that's not how you hold a spoon.'' Francis scolded teasingly. Mathieu looked up to him innocently, the spoon still in his mouth. Francis filled his spoon with a little bit of soup again -about half of it- and showed Mathieu how to do. ''See ? You hold it much like you would hold a pencil. Then, you bring the spoon to your lips and drink from it and do as little noise as possible, like this.'' He said, eating his soup. ''Don't put the spoon into your mouth.'' Mathieu blushed and nodded, a little embarrassed, and tried again.

''Like this ?'' He said after taking a sip.

''Exactly, very good.'' Francis praised. Mathieu smiled, happy he had made his father proud. The duo ate their soup -and dug into the various things on the table-, chatting softly about various things. In those little conversations, Francis learned much about his son. The boy was more talkative when it came to nature or the little animals that lived in the garden, like birds and such, and also about what he had read to him, especially the book about Jacques Cartier. The boy confessed that he'd love to visit Canada one day to see the wild nature, that it would be so different from Paris. Francis nodded listening attentively to every of his child's words. Mathieu too, of course, learned about his father. Both blonds talked about their interests and discovered that they shared common interest in nature. Although, they admitted, Mathieu liked wild nature best, while Francis liked finely cut bushes and the healthy roses of his garden.

The maid by the door was smiling happily at the pair, glad to see the father and the son bonding so well. The boy seemed to be gaining in confidence; he seemed less shy. When their bowls were emptied, she asked the two if they'd like a second serving. Mathieu seemed to want a second one and voiced his wish politely, but Franis cut in.

''But you won't be hungry for the main dish, Mathieu. And let's not forget about the dessert.'' The older man winked, and so Mathieu, giggling, said he'd wait for the main dish.

The door to the dinning room opened and a second tray was carried in by a new maid, who left almost immediately, taking the tray on which the soup was back with her. Nadine Brought the tray to the table, took the porcelain tureen from it and set it on the table. With a cloth, she took of the cover of the tureen, letting steam come out of it. Mathieu immediately caught the smell. His eyes widened and he unconsciously licked his lips. It smelled like chocolate. Nadine took his plate and poured in the chocolate flavoured chicken along with fruits and other sweet tasting vegetables – and again, making fancy arrangements in plate- and set the plate back in front of Mathieu. Mathieu had to keep himself from drooling as he looked at the plate. The maid served Francis as well, and also gave him his wine, and went back to her spot, waiting in case the two needed anything.

''I asked the cooks to prepare this especially for you.'' Francis told Mathieu, smiling lovingly at him. Mathieu looked up to him with sparkling eyes.

''Thank you so much, mister Bonnefoy !'' The child said vividly. Francis ruffled the boy's hair affectionately, although he wished the boy would call him papa...

''You're very welcome, Mathieu. Now eat before it gets cold.'' He winked. Mathieu nodded eagerly and took fork and knife in hand. At this Francis chuckled. Mathieu turned to him, tilting his head in confusion. ''You eat like the English.'' Francis stated. Mathieu blushed.

''I'm sorry.'' He said shyly, looking down at his utensils. Francis' eyes grew.

''O-oh, non, don't apologize. Don't worry.'' Francis baffled; he didn't want to make the child uncomfortable. ''See, the proper french etiquette stipulates that you should hold your fork in your left hand and the knife in the right hand.'' He explained calmly. Mathieu blinked but did as told. It felt a bit awkward. He was right-handed, so shouldn't he hold his fork in the right hand ?

''Like this ?''

''Yes.'' Francs smiled. ''Now, turn the fork so that the teeth are curving down toward the plate. Yes, like this.'' Francis watched in amusement as he looked at his child try the new technique. ''You see ? Now you don't kneed to exchange hands to cut the food.'' Mathieu nodded, smiling a little. ''You eat like the King of France eats, now.'' Francis declared and Mathieu felt strangely proud, like he was a noble. He felt like the heroes or the princes in the stories. Both blondes continued to eat.

''Oh.'' Francis chuckled. ''You have chocolate on your mouth.'' The blond took a table serviette and gently rubbed away the chocolate off Mathieu's face. The little boy giggled, blushing a little. Francis joined his son in laughter. The boy was simply too adorable. The gesture, albeit very little, made Francis strangely happy. It made him feel like a real father.

For dessert, crêpes were served and Francis was happy to note how fine of an appetite his son had. It was a definite sign of good health and found this reassuring. He also noticed the boy had gained a little weight. The boy had now a healthy, childish chubbiness to his cheeks that he did not have when he first came in his estate -the boy had been quite skinny at the time, a little too skinny. When dinner was finished, Francis took Mathieu in his arms. It was already time for him to read his son a story. The dinner had been quite long -and they had started a little late- seeing as the two had been talking and taking their time to eat. Francis, in all honesty, could not remember ever having a more lovely dinner in his life.

Upon entering the library, Francis had to keep himself from smiling too much. He was about to show his cute son his first surprise of the many he would have tonight. He got to their usual seat and sat Mathieu on his lap, as usual. He noticed Mathieu blinked curiously at the piles and piles of books that were on the table and a medium-sized chest that had not been there before. Francis, guessing his son's thoughts, answered to them.

''These are books I bought your you today. I don't have much children books, so I decided to buy some.'' Mathieu was quite impressed by his father's definition of 'some'. Still, he could not deny that it pleased him very much and that he was very much excited to know what stories laid before him. Mathieu looked up to his father, smiling timidly.

''Thank you.'' The boy said softly, playing with his fingers in an embarrassed manner. He wanted very much to hug his father, but, again, was stopped by his shyness and his uncertainty. He could not help but wonder what had brought the relatively sudden change in his father's attitude toward him, and it made him a little bit comfortable. The sudden attention, the fabulous food, the luxurious clothes... his glasses. All this was overwhelming for the boy that had been raised in very, very modest conditions. Francis smiled sadly at the child's obvious discomfort. Maybe he should have bought more books ? Maybe this wasn't enough ? Trying to lighten the mood, Francis spoke again.

''Which one seems more appealing to you ?'' Mathieu looked into the nearest pile of books. To him, all of them seemed fabulous and it reminded him how he simply couldn't wait until the day he'd be able to read those on his own. One particular book caught his attention. He was not exactly sure of what the title was, but the picture on the cover certainly looked very nice. He took the book and gave it to his father.

''Can we read this one, please ?''

''Of course.'' Francis said, smiling as he took the book. ''An interesting choice, there.''

The book was, in fact, a compilation of various fairytales from different countries. Francis began to read and Mathieu looked carefully at the pictures and also tried to read along with his father.

The first story was a Russian story called Baba Yaga. It was the story of a young girl and her doll that went through many hardships because of her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law. It was thanks to an ugly witch -Baba Yaga- that the girl was able to get vengeance.

The second story was a British one called Mr. Fox. This fairytale was about a beautiful young lady who was in love with a handsome young lord called Mr. Fox. The lady and Mr. Fox were to be married. The eve of their marriage, however, the young lady discovered that Mr. Fox was, in fact, a villain who kidnapped young ladies such as her, killed them and rubbed them from their jewelry. The Lady told this to her brothers and friends, and Mr. Fox was no more.

Of all the short fairytales Francis had read to his son that evening, Mathieu confessed that his favourite was the japanese one called Kumajirou. The story was about a shy panda who was constantly mistreated by his family, because he was very small for his age. His family said that he was a shame for their family. One day, a wild dog came into the pandas' village. The dog was very hungry and he started to chase the pandas. Because of his petite seize, Kumajirou was the only one who was able to hide from the dog.

Francis wondered if it was because the boy recognized himself in the character of Kumajirou, being quite small and shy himself.

''That is all for tonight, Mathieu.'' Francis said, closing the book. Mathieu looked down at his fingers. He opened to mouth to say something, but closed it before he uttered even a sound. ''Is something wrong ?'' Francis enquired in a gentle voice.

''Could you please...'' Mathieu looked up to his father. ''...reread the part about the white bears ?'' Francis blinked. There had been no white bears in the fairyt-oh. The boy was talking about Jacques Cartier's Travel Diary.

''Of course.''

OoOoO

Mathieu in his arms, Francis could barely contain his excitement as they approached the new room. It had been a close call, but everything had been ready in time. Mathieu blinked curiously, noticing they weren't taking the same path to his room.

''Where are we going ?''

''To your room, Mathieu.'' Francis informed, all smiles. Mathieu wanted to tell his father that he had taken the wrong direction, but he was afraid this might be a little rude. Sensing his son's hesitation, Francis explained himself.

''I have prepared a new room for you.'' He said as they walked passed his own room. ''This is mine.'' He pointed toward his door. ''And this.'' He continued, walking to the door right next to his. ''Is yours from now on.'' Mathieu stared, he couldn't say anything, he didn't know what to say. Francis chuckled at his son's genuine surprise. He opened the door.

Mathieu could not believe this was his room. The room was not only considerably bigger than his old one -it was at least five times bigger- but the furniture, the decoration... it was so tasteful and luxurious, Mathieu feltt overwhelmed again. There most have been a mistake somewhere. He had never had a room like this, so why now ? What this really his room ? All these questions kept running in Mathieu's mind at his father slowly walked around the room, showing his son his new room. The ruled wallpaper was of pale green and blue, and there was a three foot high base of wood on the walls. The floor was wood as well, though there was a very large and very beautiful carpet at the centre of the room. On the corner of the carpet was an opened chest that seemed full of toys of all kinds. The white curtains were opened revealing a beautiful night sky, and even though it was dark, Mathieu could see that his windows gave a fabulous view of the back garden, where the artificial pond was. There was also semitransparent white curtains around his four poster bed. There was a mahogany desk against one of the four walls of the room, on which stood an ink pot, a nib and a good pile of paper. On the opposite wall was very fine mahogany easel, a white canvas was on it, ready to be painted. There was a round table on which Mathieu saw a great variety of different media -ink, pastel, oil paint, charcoal- and of numerous different colours. A few feet away from the easel stood a fireplace, with a mahogany mantelpiece. There was another round table and a very comfortable-looking chair. There was also a small library near the fire place, filled with various books.

''Do you like it ?'' Francis asked, smiling proudly. A long silence followed. Francis blinked, he couldn't see the boy's face very well, seeing as his head was downcast and a few bangs at the front kept most of his face hidden. He saw the boy's shoulders shaking slightly. Worried, Francis knelt in front of his son and gently lift his chin. He was shocked to see his adorable little boy nervously biting his lower lip, big tears threatening to fall. ''Mathieu, are you alright ? You do not like your room ?'' Mathieu shook his head vigorously. ''Perhaps it is too small ?'' Mathieu shook his head harder. ''Is it the colours ? Should I make it redecorated ?'' Mathieu shook his head again and, unable to keep tears any longer, buried his face in his father's chest, crying loudly. Francis was taken aback, but quickly wrapped his arms around the boy, soothing him with gently pats on the boy's back and little comforting words. After a couple of minutes, the boy's sobs calmed down.

''Thank you...'' Mathieu's voice was soft and shaky. ''I love it so much.'' He still couldn't believe it, though. Not even in his most fabulous dreams had he ever imagined a room like that. He didn't know such luxuries even existed before entering his father's castle.

Francis smiled the most happy smile. He smile was soft, and he felt all his being relax. He hadn't even realized how much he had apprehended his moment. He hadn't even realized how much he wanted to please his son and make him happy. He took the boy in his arm and gently tucked him his bed. Mathieu blushed a bit in embarrassment. He felt a little awkward to sleep in such a large and luxurious bed. Francis dried a few remaining tears with the back of his fingers, then planted a kiss on his boy's cheek.

''Sleep well, Mathieu.'' He smiled. Mathieu blushed, looking at his fingers.

''Good night... '' He seemed to want to say something else. Francis knew what he wanted to say. He leaned a bit, expectant, excited. ''...thank you.'' Francis blinked, then smiled softly.

''You're very welcome. If you need anything, just tell me.'' He kissed Mathieu again, then walked to the few candles that were lightening the room. He blew them, leaving only one on the round table, in case Mathieu needed to get up. And in case he was scared of the dark. He gave his son a last smile, then excited the room.

OoOoO

Francis walked back to the library. In fact, he hadn't really noticed he had walked toward the library until he entered it. He sat himself where he usually sat -where he had read stories to his son not to long ago- and sighed. He sat there for a long time, thinking. Thinking about what he had done wrong. Or what he hadn't done. He looked to the side, seeing the pile of books. He eyed them judgmentally. He sighed again.

''Something wrong, sir ?''

''Ah !'' Francis yelled, surprised. ''Dear lord above, when did you come in, Yong Soo ? And why didn't you knock ?''

''I did, sir.'' Yong Soo chuckled. ''I saw you enter the library. I knocked, but you didn't answer. I was worried.'' He explained, eyes indeed reflecting worry. ''What is wrong, sir ?''

Francis stared. He had been so preoccupied that he hadn't even heard Yong Soo knock. He sighed heavily for the third time.

''I really should have bought that pony.'' He mused aloud.

''I beg your pardon ?'' Yong Soo asked, blinking in confusion.

''There must be something that Mathieu wants or need.'' Seeing his servant blinking again, he explained himself. ''When I put Mathieu to bed, I could sense it. He was so close to call me 'papa'... yet, he didn't...'' He said, voice softening into a whisper. He massage his forehead, as if in pain. He was getting a little desperate.

''Mathieu is incredibly shy and obedient. I'm sure he really wants to call you father. However, since you ordered him not to call you that when you first met...'' He trailed off. ''I'm sure that if you asked him to, he's gladly to so.'' Yong Soo explained. Francis frowned, staring at the ground.

''But I don't want to ask him that. I want him to do it instinctively... on his own free will, like it's supposed to be.'' Francis said, closing his eyes. Yong Soo looked at his pitifully.

''How will buying him a pony solve this ?''

''Well...'' Francis didn't really know himself. ''He just seems happy when I make him presents.'' He offered as tentative explanation. Yong Soo chuckled. Francis looked up to him sternly, not finding the matter very funny.

''Hahaha ! But sir, of course he is happy when you give him presents, what child would he be if he didn't ?'' He tapped his master's shoulder playfully. ''But more importantly, he is glad because you, his father, pay attention to him and obviously care for him. However...'' Yong Soo stopped, trying to find the right words.

''However ?''

''I think you don't quite know how to show your love, sir.'' Francis' mouth fell open, dumbfounded. He, Francis, the handsome French marquis, who could have any woman -and man !- he, not knowing about love ? As if reading his mind, Yong Soo continued.

''You are confused with love. Loving a child is not so different from the love you're used to. Think about it, sir. Buying jewelry to a lady is not the only thing to do if you want her to fall in love with you.'' Francis snorted.

''Of course I know this. A woman needs to told she is pretty, to be told that she is loved, to-'' Francis stopped abruptly.

''Exactly.'' Yong Soo nodded. His eyebrows rose in a cocky manner, his smile a little teasing, as usual. ''Have you told Mathieu you loved him ?''

OoOoO

In his room, Francis thought again of his conversation with Yong Soo.

''I am such a stupid old man !'' He whispered loudly, not wanting to wake up the little sleeping blond in the other room. He sat heavily in his chair staring at nothing. His eyes diverted to his bed, then to his pillows. They were white as winter snow. It made him think of the polar bears from the book. Mathieu seemed to be fond of them. He vaguely remembered looking for one when shopping. He had not found a single white stuffed bear. When he had asked for one, he had been looked at with sceptical eyes. He had been told that white bears was a strange idea -not many of the lower class knew the details of the New World or read the book yet, apparently. It did not seemed such a strange idea for Francis, however, since there were plenty pink or blue stuffed bears. To that, he was replied that white was not recommended as a colour, since the child would most likely get it dirty so easily. Francis had not bothered to push on the matter, but now that he thought of it, he knew Mathieu would be incredibly happy to have a white stuffed bear. Yong Soo had said that toys or luxurious clothes wasn't what Mathieu truly needed, but he still couldn't fight back these urges to spoil his adorable son. He'd tell Mathieu he loves him, of course. He'd do that first thing when tomorrow morning. However, that didn't mean he couldn't make his son another present.

With that in mind, Francis rose from his seat again, a huge smile bearing his features. He ran to find a servant. He'd need a needle, scissors and a few other things.

OoOoO

''...thieu... Mathieu... It's time to wake up.'' Mathieu slowly opened his eyes. It was blurry and weirdly shaped. He extended his arms, taking his glasses from the little table beside his bed and slipped them on. He saw his father smiling at him. ''Good morning, Mathieu. Did you sleep well ?''

Mathieu smiled, nodding. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but then noticed the bags under his father's eyes. He cocked his head to the side curiously. He didn't look tired. In fact, his father's eyes were bright with vigour and cheerfulness.

''Good morning.'' He offered politely.

''Before we get you ready for breakfast, there's a present I'd like to give you.'' Mathieu blinked, blushing. He wondered what else there was for him to have. It had seemed to him that he couldn't have more, it seemed impossible. He stared as Francis revealed his present, which had been hiding behind his back. He eyes widened and sparkled with joy. It was a large stuffed bear ! A white bear ! And it was almost as tall as him ! Mathieu took the bear and squeezed it tightly in his arms, giggling as he did so.

He looked up to his father, beaming.

''Thank you !'' Francis smiled back to him. Mathieu giggled again then, his eyes fell on his father's fingers. They were bandaged. He blinked. He looked at his bear. Now that he looked more carefully, the bear didn't look like it had been bought. It had rather prominent imperfections. Imperfections that wouldn't have been there had it been made by a professional. The bear had an ear bigger then the other, the eyes weren't quite aligned with each other. He looked up to his father again. Could it be... ? It couldn't be anything else. Now, the imperfections weren't imperfections anymore. It made the bear more adorable. He loved the bear even more now.

Francis chuckled. It seemed the boy had found out. He took the boy in his arms, sitting him on his lap and caressed his hair a little bit. He suddenly felt very nervous. He tightened his grip around the boy.

''I love you, Mathieu.'' He said softly. The boy looked up to him, wide-eyed. The big blue eyes were soon filled with tears again. Mathieu wrapped his arms around his father's neck, happy like he hadn't been in a long time since his mother's death. ''Will you forgive me ?'' Francis added, his voice failing him. Francis didn't need to explain himself, Mathieu knew what he meant. Mathieu kept his mouth shut, knowing that any word he'd try to pronounce would come out as incoherent sob. Instead, the boy nodded his head vigorously. Francis sighed in relief. His heart was still beating rapidly, though not from the nervousness -it had all faded- but from happiness.

''Mathieu... mon poussin.'' He said, planting kisses on his son's cheeks.

''Papa, papa, papa !'' Mathieu cried happily. His father's beard was tickling him. He giggled.

The pair stayed in each other's arms for a long while, laughing happily, Mathieu keeping calling his father 'papa' as Francis gave him all sorts of different endearments; my angel, my little bunny, my little prince... my son... Soon, the tears and laughs calmed down. Francis looked as Mathieu played with his bear on his lap. He kissed the top of Mathieu,s head.

''Do you have a name for your new friend ?''

Mathieu thought, tapping his mouth with his finger cutely. Francis chuckled. Mathieu clapped his hands excitedly as an idea came to him. He smiled.

''Kumajirou !''

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OMG FINALLY !!!!!!!11one!!!! D8

I hope you enjoyed ! Hopefully, the next chapter won't take as long to write. -shot-

Mon poussin = My chick. It's kinda weird in English lol, but in French it really is used as en endearment for children.

**PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz. D8 jfgoriegnjor !11one!

**Note: **Thank you very much for all the reviews, favs and alerts ! Special thanks to my anonymous reviewers since I cannot thank you properly by replying to you !

******* **This chapter is meant to be some kind of transition. Loads of fluff ahead ! *****

''Speech''

_Thoughts_

Enjoy !

* * *

**Dis Papa**

Ever since he had officially gotten his son back -if it could be phrased that way- Francis seemed to be living in the clouds. Everyday, the man would get up and wake his son himself. He was the one helping his son getting dressed, he was the one helping his son clean, he was... in short, everything he could to with or for his son, he would do it. Francis didn't want for a servant to take that pleasure from him. Those little things, Francis realized, those little moments were those he cherished the most. He simply couldn't explain the feeling that was constantly there in his stomach. Pride, happiness, excitement ? It felt like all of them at the same time. That must be how a father feels. He could barely believe he had been stripped of that pleasure the past seven years. And that same thought would tickle him every so often. And the more time he spent with Mathieu, the more he loved him -he had thought this impossible, he didn't think he could love Mathieu more than he already did, but it felt like that. Their mutual attachment was always growing- and thus, that tickling thought grew and became a pain, until one night, as he was alone, sitting on his bed, he couldn't take it anymore. He burst into tears. Francis had missed important years of his son's life and he would never get them back. He'd gladly throw away all his fortune and estates and title to hold baby Mathieu in his arms, to hear him say his first word which, he was sure, would have been ''papa''. It had been going on for days and days. He would still get up and wake Mathieu up, of course, but the child could clearly see the distress in his father's eyes... and to his great dismay, Mathieu had noticed, the distress seemed to increase every time his father looked at him.

''What's wrong, papa ?'' He had said in a soft voice one night, after Francis had kissed him goodnight. His father had stared at him, seemingly quite surprised by the boy's question. Francis truly had not intended to let his depression known to others, especially Mathieu. Francis' eyes quickly became watery. He took the boy into a warm and strong embrace. Instead of answering, the blond man had kissed the top of his son's head and had said in a quiet, broken voice.

''Don't leave me, Mathieu... please...'' Mathieu had been shocked at first, but then he hugged his father as strongly as he could.

''I promise.'' He had said. He still didn't understand what was going on or why his father had such fears. He didn't understand at all. But his father was crying, so he cried too.

Yong Soo, being the very sharp and sage Asian that he was -when he wanted to, at least- had, of course, noticed his master's depression. He had also guessed the reason. He could see no other. He had understood the man's distress and had therefore not tried to console him. Such things needed time and Francis, ever so proud, probably wouldn't welcome any sort of consolation from a mere servant... or anyone at all, for the matter. It had begun to utterly unnerve him, however, when he had noticed how much it affected poor Mathieu as well. And so, one afternoon, -leaving the day's lessons to the young servant Mathilde- Yong soo went to his master's study, quite determined to reason him. Yong Soo was a very impulsive man, especially when unnerved -as it has been seen in the past, though it seemed even worse when it concerned Mathieu. He had never hit his master before that day he had found out Mathieu needed glasses- and so Yong Soo did not knock on the door and, upon entering, Yong Soo screamed.

''That's enough, da ze !'' He said, letting his most primal, instinctive da-ze-of-anger come out of his mouth. The scream sent shivers down Francis' spine. The poor blond man had been tranquilly sulking in his chair, staring at nothing in particular until Yong Soo had burst into his study. Francis jumped on his seat. He stared, incredulous, at the Asian before him. He noticed with a blush that his mouth was wide open with the surprise. He quickly closed it, swallowing awkwardly and cleared his throat. Faking his usual air of arrogance, Francis looked at his servant judgmentally.

''What is the meaning of this, Yong Soo?'' He said, his voice, though, sounded much less authoritative than he had wished for. Yong Soo did not seem intimidated in the least. If anything, he looked even more annoyed.

''I am sick of seeing you depressed, da ze ! And so is Mathieu !'' The last sentence was like a knife piercing Francis heart. Yong Soo knew how to play his cards.

''M-Mathieu ?'' He asked hesitantly.

''Yes, Mathieu, da ze !'' Yong Soo sighed heavily, exasperate. ''The poor child probably thinks you are unwell because of something he did or some other nonsense...'' He said firmly, frowning at the man. Francis' eyes fell to the ground in shame. He brought a trembling head to his forehead. Yong Soo's anger quickly cooled down at the sight. He pitied his master, really, and could understand why he was so sad. Yong Soo himself had a family back in Korea... who knows what became of them. But had moved on, just like Francis needed to now. Especially Francis, for he had the great fortune of having his son with him. He had not lost him, he had found him. ''I understand that you blame yourself for missing all this years with Mathieu...'' Yong Soo started. Francis looked up to him, wide eyed. He hadn't tell his servant the reason if his depression. The Asian was quite sharp. ''...but please do not let your sadness make you miss anymore of those precious moment.'' Francis blinked. He knew that his servant was right. If he went on like this, he wouldn't be able to enjoy fully other important moments of Mathieu's life. Furthermore, he would make his child unhappy because of his attitude... maybe he would even stop loving him ! Francis eyes shone with renewed determination. A strange feeling erupted in his stomach. He rose from his seat and walked to the door. He stopped when he reached it and turned back to Yong Soo.

''Thank you, Yong Soo.'' He said, smiling, and before Yong Soo even had the time to smile back, his master had left.

OoOoO

Mathieu was studying French with Mathilde, or at least trying to. The little boy's mind kept wandering else where, genuinely worried about his father. Mathile, of course, noticed this but couldn't bring herself to scold the little boy. She couldn't even bring herself to gently tell the boy to focus on his book. She knew the boy was preocupied with his master and, really, the boy was just too sweet for his own good. All she could do was wait patiently for Mathieu to realized he had been spacing out.

''Oh.'' Mathieu blinked, blushing in embarrassment. ''Please forgive me.'' Mathieu had apologized softly like this three times already since the beginning of their lesson.

''It's quite alright, Mathieu. Could you read this passage again for me, please ?'' Mathilde said equally gently. Mathilde usually was a bright and extrovert kind of girl, but like everyone else - maybe except for Yong Soo- people couldn't help but lower their voice when talking to the boy. Mathieu was so gentle and delicate, they did not want to startle the boy by speaking too loud.

''Yes, mademoiselle.'' Mathieu nodded and smiled. He turned his gaze down to the book in front of him. He opened his mouth to start reading, but the lesson was interrupted again, though this time by two quick knocks on the door. Francis penetrated the room immediately after and walked straight up to his little boy. Both Mathilde and Mathieu were, to say the least, surprised by the sudden appearance of the master. Said master stopped himself in front of Mathieu and took him in his arms. He hugged the little boy close to him and kissed his cheek. Then, Mathieu looked at him, still a little surprised. Francis smiled to him and Mathieu couldn't help but smile too, though in relief. His father seemed to be feeling better now.

''I'm sorry, mon lapin. I was not feeling very well lately and I've made you worry. Do you forgive me ?'' Francis said gently.

''Of course, papa !'' Mathieu said cheerfully wrapping his arms around his father's neck. Francis chuckled, happy. Mathilde smiled fondly at the sight.

''Let's go outside. The weather is so fine today.'' Francis suggested. Mathieu nodded eagerly. Francis turned his gaze on Mathilde. ''Please prepare a light meal and bring it in the garden.'' Mathilde was about to protest, Mathieu had been in the middle of a lesson, after all, but she supposed she could let it go... this once. And so, the young lady nodded and went to the kitchens. Francis leaned a little and grabbed the stuffed bear which, Francis noted, had been seated in a chair right next to Mathieu's with a book open on the desk in front of him, as if the white bear had been studying as well. He smiled and handed the toy to Mathieu who hugged it tenderly.

''What game would like to play, chéri ?'' Francis asked, walking out of the room, his precious son still in his arms.

OoOoO

Yong Soo stood by the window, a longing look on his face. He looked silently at his master and the boy as they played hide and seek. Truth to be told, the Korean felt a little jealous. He knew, of course, that he didn't belong in Francis' place, but he couldn't hide to himself that he had grown quite fond of the boy and he knew that, from now on, he would be spending less time with him. Mathieu reminded him of his younger siblings back in his homeland... he wondered how they were... how they had grown... he wondered if they were even alive. Yong Soo sighed deeply then diverted his eyes to the pile of bedsheets in his hands. He smiled a little. At least he would be sharing something with Mathieu that Francis would never be able to take away from them: Korean. Yong Soo nodded to himself. He would be happy with that.

OoOoO

Mathieu ran through the labyrinth-like garden, clutching his stuffed bear close to him. He stopped and looked frantically around.

''Eight... nine... ten...'' Mathieu heard his father counting slowly.

''Where do you think we should hide, monsieur Kumajirou ?'' The blond whispered quietly to his bear. He leaned in and glued his ear to the bear's muzzle. The bear spoke so very quietly, that only Mathieu could understand him. Mathieu nodded, smiling as he looked around. ''There, monsieur Kumajirou !'' He whispered back excitedly and crawled behind a bush with soft-looking leaves.

''Twenty !'' Francis said loudly as he moved away from the tree against which he had been counting. He quietly made is way through the maze-like garden, careful not to let any detail escape his eyes. He even looked under the bushes -though he hope his little boy wasn't under those bushes, he might dirty or hurt himself !- but did not see him. He travelled further into the garden, walking at a slow pace. He stopped in his tracks, having heard a faint sound of what looked like a giggle. Francis smiled to himself.

''Ah, where could my little angel be ?'' He exclaimed in false desperation. There was another giggle. Francis followed the sound with his ears and his eyes fell on one particular bush. Through the thick branches, the French could see the distinctive white synthetic fur of the stuffed bear. He slowly sneaked to the bush, trying to be as silent as possible. Then, the blond man jumped, suddenly showing himself to Mathieu and surprising him as he did so.

''Aaah !'' The Boy screamed then started running, laughing loudly. Francis faked an evil laugh and followed the boy. It was easy to catch up to him and, imitating growls like those of a wolf, the noble sized the little boy and lifted him high up in the air before hugging him tightly in his arms. The boy laughed excitedly as he was threatened to be eaten, then ravaged by kisses on his cheeks and forehead. Francis, to be honest, never thought he would play those silly games should he have children -though, back then, he the thought of having children had never appealed to him- but now that he was doing it, he felt incredibly stupid for finding the game silly in the first place. Having Mathieu by his side not only brought him great happiness, it also made him grow, learn... His laughter slowly calmed down, so did Mathieu's. Francis looked fondly at his boy, who smiled back to him. He gave him another light peck then, in the corner of his eyes, saw a maid enter the garden with a plate finely furnished with food. Francis walked to the small table, which was surrounded by multiple bushes of roses, then sat Mathieu on a chair. Taking the seat opposite from his son, Francis thanked the maid. Said maid bowed then left inside the estate. Mathieu looked with sparkling eyes the cookies and fruits that were offered to him. He hesitated before finally picking a cookie. Francis chuckled and poured his son a glass of fresh milk. The two blonds chatted and ate. The weather seemed even finer to Francis when he was with his son, and he couldn't bring himself to care how cheesy that might have sounded. Soon enough, Yong Soo appeared in the gardens, a small box in his hand and a wide smile on his features.

''I have good news, sir.'' Yong Soo announced, giving the little box to Mathieu. The little boy thanked the Asian timidly, then looked at his father, waiting for his approbation.

''Oh ?'' Francis asked Yong Soo, curious. He turned his attention to the boy, then on the little box in his hands. His eyes sparkled in understanding as he realized what it was. He smiled to his son. ''Let's see what this box is hiding.'' Mathieu eagerly nodded, genuinely excited to know what it contained. He carefully untied the ribbon than open the box with equal delicacy. He let out a small gasp as he saw what was inside. There, on a fine white silk cushion, were two identical pairs of glasses. The only difference was the frame. One was silver, the other was gold. They were both so clean and shiny, it made the boy blink several times in awe. ''They finally arrived !'' He heard his father exclaim. ''It took quite a while, but judging on their appearance, I can tell it was worth the wait.'' Francis smiled.

''Indeed, sir. The delivery boy said they were the finest and thinnest pairs in the country.'' Yong Soo confirmed.

''Good.'' Francis nodded, very proud to know that his boy had the best of the best. After all, the little boy deserved nothing less. ''Let's see how they look on you.'' Francis said gently to his son. Mathieu smiled and took the silver pair in his hand, taking his own pair off with the other, the world suddenly becoming chaotic and blurry. He gently lay the old pair on the table then put on his new pair. His eyes widened. He could see much further away and even the things that were near him seemed yet a little clearer. He smiled happily. Everything looked so perfect, he didn't think he could possibly see better than he could see now. Francis smiled in satisfaction. Seeing his son's reaction confirmed his hopes. ''Do you like them ?'' He enquired.

''Yes ! Very much indeed ! Thank you so very much, papa !'' Mathieu said excitedly then rose from his seat and ran to his father. He jumped on his lap and hugged him as tight as his little arms let him. Francis returned the embrace with equal enthusiasm, chuckling all the while.

''You're very welcome, Mathieu.'' He said softly. Yong Soo smiled at the sight.

OoOoO

The following morning, while his son was having his daily lessons, Francis decided to take a little break from his book to go on a little adventure in his boy's room. He entered the room not surprised to see the room very clean and tidy. As usual. He knew the maid hadn't clean the room, as it was too early and the lady was probably still cleaning on the first floor. He slowly walked into the room. Even the bed was neatly done -as neatly as a seven years old boy could manage, Franchis thought, chuckling- and not a single toy was out of the chest. Francis vaguely wondered if Mathieu played with them at all, but seeing how the toys had been put away in the chest, Francis saw that the boy had definitely used them. Mathieu, without a doubt, was further expressing his gratitude by cleaning his room. It was a simple gesture that Francis knew not all children practice. Mathieu's politeness and sweet character never ceased to amaze him. It was then that Mathieu realized that that Jeanne, Mathieu's mother, had done a wonderful job raising him. He also realized that Mathieu's temper was very different from his own, on that particular aspect, at least. He closed his eyes. Francis had barely talked to that Jeanne, but from what he could remember, the young woman had a very sweet temper. Mathieu must have gotten it from her, he mused. The more Francis spent time with Mathieu, however, the more he found similarities other than the physical ones. The boy had good appetite and enjoyed fine cuisine. He knew most everyone did, but the way slowly ate the food to appreciate every flavour told Francis that it was more than common gluttony, especially or a child his age. The boy was also very optimistic and easygoing, much like himself. But most of all, Francis knew he was a passionate man capable of loving unconditionally, and judging by the way Mathieu so openly showed his love to him or Yong Soo and even the way he took so carefully care of his stuffed bear, Francis knew that Mathieu was just like him. Mathieu was going to be a great lover, when he will be older, Francis mused, laughing to himself. And, Francis firmly resolved, he would not be like him; he would not go to brothels and waste that love potential.

Francis continued his walked, deep in thought still. He came across the fine easel on which was Mathieu's latest drawing. He hadn't seen it when he had put Mathieu to bed the night before, seeing as it was quite dark, but now that he could, Francis noted with awe that Mathieu had made great progress again. The new glasses must have helped quite a lot. More and more details were added with each drawing. Francis could tell that Mathieu wanted to immortalize what he was finally really seeing forever. With time and work, he was sure Mathieu would be a great artist.

Now pumped up with pride, Francis thought it be a goof time to work on his duties as a Marquis. The man walked out of his son's room, then down the stairs all the way to his study. There, on the desk, was a pile of documents that demanded his attention. As a Marquis, Francis owned many lands across the country, most of which he rented or sold to peasants or lower ranked nobles. He took the pile and began looking through it. The first one was a letter from a family which had paid their last payment and Francis was now to sign the documents which confirmed that the lands were now their property. The second was a letter to which was attached a confirmation from the back that the monthly payment had been made. Francis looked carefully at the amount written on the paper was smaller than it should have been. Francis was not surprised. This happened every so often. Francis opened the letter and quickly read through it. Just as he had thought, the farmers which rented these lands had sent some of their harvest as compensation. Francis never minded when this happened. After all, he would have bought the products with the money he would have received anyways. That day, though, something seemed to titillate the noble. Francis realized it was guilt. He knew that the price he was asking his tenants was not unreasonable, but he suddenly was bothered by the fact that some of them simply couldn't pay all the amount. And while he knew none of his tenants were living in misery -some of them, in fact, were nobles and lived quite well- it still felt wrong to him. What if one of the farmers' child needed glasses like Mathieu did, but couldn't afford them ? What if some of the children had to leave school to help on the lands so that they could make more money to pay the rent ? Francis, having made up his mind, took a sheet of paper and wrote a letter. From now on, it said, the rent would be lower in price. Francis knew, of course, that this meant he would have less money. And so Francis thought. What will he sacrifice in exchange of this ? The brothels cost quite a bit, but ever since things had started to go well between him and his son, he had stopped going there. It wouldn't show the boy a good example, after all, and really... now that he had his son, he didn't even feel like going there again. It seemed all so petty. _That will not suffice to cover for all the money, of course, but it will certainly make good compensation... Let's see, what else could I..._ Francis thought again for a while. He remembered the two estates he owned in the countryside. His father used to love going there, but e barely ever went there himself, preferring the liveliness of Paris. He also knew that he was paying servants to keep the house clean and the gardens fresh... even though he never was there. Indeed, if he sold those two estates, it would cover for the loss more than necessary. Francis nodded to himself. Indeed, that would do.

Within the following week, Francis received countless letters of gratitude from his tenants and their family. Francis could not be happier or more proud.

OoOoO

Francis and Mathieu, like every night, were sitting in the library. Francis, holding a book and Mathieu on his lap, smiled as Mathieu read the book aloud. For a while now, Mathieu was showing his progress to his father by reading the first page of the book of the evening.

''Et... la pe... petite... princesse... ét... était bien triste... car ?''

'' 'kar'. '' Francis gently corrected. ''In front of an 'a' or 'o', the 'c' is pronounce like a 'k' unless there's a cedilla under it.'' He explained.

''...car son père était mort.''

'' 'mor', you don't pronounce the 't', here.'' Francis corrected again with patience.

''Mort.'' Mathieu repeated correctly.

''Very well, Mathieu. I'm very proud of you. You can read almost perfectly, now. Only a few pronunciation mistakes here and there.'' Francis kissed his son's hair affectionately. ''Would you like me to continue ?''

''Yes, please !'' Mathieu said excitedly. As much as he liked to read himself, it was a bit long and hard for him. He wanted to know what was going to happen to that princess as well !

Francis finished the story, chuckling at every 'oh's and 'ah's he son would utter. Francis closed the book and set it on the table on the side. He shifted Mathieu on his lap so that he had a better hold of him and wrapped his arms tightly around him, gluing him to his broad chest. He didn't want to put him to bed just yet; he still wanted to hold him. Mathieu, of course, did not complain. Instead, the little blond snuggled in his father's embrace and closed his eyes and hugged his bear tightly, enjoying the gentle sound of his father's beating heart. Francis smiled fondly and carressed the boy's hair, letting out a happy sigh as he did so. They stayed like that silently, until Francis' brow rose as he realized something. Francis felt a wave of discomfort and embarrassment invading him. He pondered for a minute, debating with himself if he should ask the boy or not. What if Mathieu was offended or saddened by the question ? Still, Francis had to know, and he could not think of a more subtle way to ask him.

''Mathieu ?'' Francis said softly, wondering if the boy had fallen asleep on his lap. It seemed not as the blond opened is eyes, looking up to him with a curious expression on his face. ''I've realized...'' Francis started with little courage. ''... when is your birthday, mon ange ?'' He asked at last, swallowing nervously. What if he had missed it since his son's arrival ? He saw Mathieu blink, not seeming bothered by the question at all.

''The first of July.'' He said, smiling proudly. Francis sighed in relief and smiled as well.

''Oh, it's not very far away from mine, then. I was born a fourteen of July.''

''Really ? Haha !'' Mathieu giggled.

The old clock in the library rang nine times, indicating bedtime for Mathieu. Sighing sadly, Francis rose from his seat, son still in arms. He wanted to keep Mathieu with him longer, but he could clearly see that the boy was tired. And Francis didn't want to be scolded again by a certain Asian for being the cause of Mathieu's struggles to stay away during his lessons.

OoOoO

When Mathieu heard the door close, he opened his eyes again. Sitting up in his bed, the young blond extended his arms, carefully reaching for the candle -which had a fancily shaped glass protector so that it wouldn't burn anything- on the bedside table. When he saw that almost blinding gleam that the fire produced when reflecting on his glasses, he reached for them and put them securely on his hose. He opened the drawer and took a letter, which was ripped in two. He had been waiting until he got better at reading before attempting to read it. Tonight, Mathieu decided, was the night he would read it. Setting the candle back on the table, Mathieu sat himself that the edge on the side of his bed so that the dim light lit the letter enough for him to see. His mother's letter. It was short, and judging by the handwriting, his mother had written it in the last struggles of her deathbed.

_Francis Bonnefoy,_

_Back then, your wig and clothes would not fool me. You had introduced yourself under the common name of ''Phillip'', but that is not your name. I know the faces of the nobles; you are not the only one who has come to see me. Indeed I know your face and it is a face that I kept seeing in Mathieu's features the more he grew up. I should thank you for the gift you have given me. Mathieu has been my only joy for the past seven years. Now, I am dying and have no family to take care of him for me and I refuse to send him to an orphanage. Whether you want it or not, he is and will always be your son. I beg you to take care of him and love him. _

_I beg you._

_Jeanne Bellecourt_

Mathieu felt his eyes water as he slowly read through the letter. As he finished, the boy let his tears fall freely. He hugged the pieces of paper close to his heart, closing his eyes. When he opened them, the warm, friendly eyes of his bear greeted him. Mathieu looked at the bear, tears still falling. He smiled to the bear. He put the letter back in the drawer and then, just like his mother had taught him, Mathieu got off his bed, knelt in front of it and places his hands in prayer. The boy closed his eyes and spoke in a soft, trembling voice.

''Maman in heaven... please don't worry.'' He started, hiccoughs interrupting his speech. ''Just as you asked, papa takes care of me and loves me very much... I miss you... but I am going to be fine, because I have papa, Yong Soo, Kumajirou and many other people to take care of me... I love you maman. Amen.''

Mathieu climbed back into his bed. The prayer had made him feel strangely better. He felt as though a heavy weigh had been taken off his heart... and he hope his mother felt the same. Hugging his furry friend close, Mathieu let himself be taken by arms of Morpheus.

OoOoO

Francis sat in his study, comfortably seated on his french baroque chair. The blond man had been thinking, again, about his dear son. The child would soon be able to read and write perfectly -the child was surprisingly sharp, but then, it was his son, after all !- and thus Francis decided that it would soon be time to take his education on higher levels. As a son of a noble, it was imperative that Mathieu should get the best teachers and the best education. He needed to stand out from the rest of the population, but also from the other nobles. There were many nobles and all of them -except himself, of course- had large families. Gaining the favours of the monarchy was very important to assure him the best lifestyle quality. For when Mathieu was old enough -Francis mortified himself to think- the blond would have to love on his own. Francis had the firm intention of keeping his son with him as long as possibly acceptable. _Not before marriage_,_ at least_, Francis thought, _and even then, it is not unheard of for young married couples to live with their parents for a few years_. That however, would not happen before quite a few years. Smiling to himself, he thought of all the best doctors and masters of human disciplines he knew of. The first name that came to him, was Feliciano Vargas, one of the most prominent artist there was these days. He heard the man was rather young -slightly younger than himself- and quite dynamic. He would make a wonderful teacher for his darling son. Also, Francis knew this would make his precious son more than happy. The boy was more than obviously interested in Arts. Nodding approvingly to himself, Francis wrote down the name, not wanting to forget it. _Who else is there..._ Francis mused. _Mathieu also seems to have an inclination towards languages... _He thought, thinking how well Mathieu was grasping basic French grammar for his age and his apparent progress in Korean. _He should learn Spanish._ Francis smiled to himself, instantly thinking of his good Friend Antonio. _But Mathieu eventually will have learn about mathematics and physics... as well as the science of nature. The stars, geology, animals..._ Francis let his carousel of thoughts invade him as he rapidly scribbled down a piece of paper, writing down disciplines and names. _History, geography..._ He continued, though was soon interrupted by three knocks on the door. Slightly frustrated at being interrupted, Francis did not answer and finished writing down his list. Whoever was on the other side of the door would wait. After a few minutes, Francis finally set his nib back into the ink pot and sank back into his chair.

''Come in.'' He finally announced. Unsurprisingly, Yong Soo came in with a plate on which a pastry was finely presented on a porcelain plate. Francis suddenly felt a little bad for making the lad wait, he should have known he always took a little snack around this time of the evening. He quickly brushed the feeling away. Francis smiled thanking his servant as the later set the plate on his desk. ''I have a task for you to complete, Yong Soo.'' He said, looking at his nailes, smiling proudly. Yong Soo's brow rose.

''Yes, sir ?''

''I believe it is time for Mathieu to get real education.'' He started. ''Be so kind as to start preparing rooms more appropriate for a learning environment.'' He instructed. ''I will start writing letters to potential tutors this instant.'' Yong Soo stared at his master incredulously. He swallowed nervously, uneasiness flowing freely in his stomach in an almost sickening manner.

''You can't do that, sir...'' He said sadly. Francis stared at him, eyebrows frowning deeply, feeling insulted.

''What do you mean, I can't do that.'' He asked, all traces of previous courtesy long gone. The unpleasant feeling in Yong Soo's stomach only worsened. He wish he didn't have to do this, he wished his master wasn't so naive. But how could he blame him ? He was used the world being so unbelievably simple, everything being a question of money, which, of course, the man had plenty of.

''Because Mathieu is not your legitimate child.'' Yong Soo kindly explain, hoping that his tone would maybe ease the information into his poor master's brain. Yong Soo swallowed nervously again as the information -information that Francis seemed to forget so easily- sank in.

''Oh.'' Francis said blankly, his vividness disappearing as all the real consequences finally revealed themselves to Francis. Mathieu, because of his illegitimacy, could not get prime education, could not go out in the world with him, could not be introduced to the court, could not marry with a respectable family, could not... ''O-oh...'' Francis said his voice trembling. Would his little Mathieu really be condemned to a life of lies, of misery and of shame ? Francis panicked, lips trembling in worry in dimensions he had never felt. It never even crossed Francis' mind that his own life would be shaken if this should be known, unlike the first time he had learn of his child's existence.

Yong Soo watched with pained eyes as distress took over his master. He was already affected by the situation, but he dared not to imagine how Francis, the boy's real father, felt. He was certain, of course, that Mathieu could still be very happy with a simple life, but he also understood that Francis wanted what was best for his son. He wanted to give him everything he could. That was what parents did for their children, after all. Yong Soo closed his eyes and meditated. Like his master, he had to find a solution. He reopened his eyes and spoke up, though with little confidence, unconvinced that his master would take the idea well.

''You could falsify papers and make people believe that you simply adopted him.'' He proposed hesitantly. Francis shook his head, instantly disapproving the idea.

''No.'' He said, looking to the ground, a deep frown on his face, as if still thinking while he spoke. ''I want to find a way to make Mathieu my real, legal son. You know just as well as I do that adopted children are not well accepted in society, even when adopted my nobles... especially by nobles.'' He corrected himself. ''After all, who knows if the child is not of ill blood ? Son of a criminal, son of an English.'' He half joked bitterly. ''Son of a whore...'' He added sadly. ''He needs to be adopted from another noble family... but I want to expose Mathieu as my true son...'' Yong Soo dared not so say to his master that he was being rather demanding... ''Furthermore, you admitted yourself that my Mathieu and I look too much alike to deny any sort of blood link.''

''That is true...'' Yong Soo sighed, not knowing what was to be done. He looked at his master worryingly as the later rose from his seat and paced around the room, a heavy aura around him. Though the man, Yong Soo noticed, did not seem distressed anymore. In fact, the man had gained hope and seemed to be clinging to it as solutions and solutions ran through his brain. Suddenly, Francis stopped. There had to be a way, and Yong Soo saw that his master was quite determined to find it.

''I think... I have an idea.'' Francis said tentatively. ''Yes.'' He said with more confidence, this time. He speed walked to his desk and grabbed a nib and a paper. Yong Soo watched in fascination as he wrote a letter in an almost angry speed.

_My dear Friend..._

* * *

**Note:** WOOT. Finished ! But it's short. D8 Sorry about that. To make it up, I can already tell you this:

There are two, may be three, chapters left of this first part and they're going to be HUGE ASS CHAPTERS OF DOOM. New characters coming in the two next chapters and a time skip to young teen Mathieu in the last one.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter ! Sorry if there are mistakes. As usual, I was too lazy to re-read lol. -shot-

**PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE REVIEW **


	6. Chapter 6 fin

**Disclaimer:** I are not owner of Hetalia.

**Note:** Hello, hello ! Thanks everyone again for the reviews !

I got a few reviews asking about **Arthur and Alfred.** Unfortunately, those two won't come in until the first or second chapter of the **second part of this fic.** =P I hope to see you all there, eh ? -Le wink- It won't take much longer !

********** Part two will be posted separately due to its MUCH more mature content. The title will be: **Shades of a Forbidden Passion**

Now, onto the story ! Enjoy !

''Speech.''

_Thoughts._

_''German.''_

**Warning: **I did not revise before posting as I simply couldn't wait any longer to post this chapter... I think you've all waited long enough too ! So I apologize for all the possible mistakes I made.

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**DIS PAPA  
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Ingrid had been a most faithful servant for her host family fore quite a few years now. She had been serving the present master's father for eight years before said man died. Though old in age, the woman was very young at heart. It was her lively spirit, tenderness and good humour that had secured her place in the household she was serving until her bones grew too old, despite the occasional moment of zeal and laziness -and even gluttony- that sometimes belated her in her daily chores. Fortunately for Ingrid, she was also gifted with quite a handful of years of experience which made her catch up in her chores. Telling herself those lines exactly in her head, Ingrid therefore did not feel the slightest bit of guilt as she lost herself in revery and souvenirs as she held a very particular letter in her hands. She had not read it, of course, only her master will, but the name written in the most graceful handwriting she had ever seen was enough to send her back in his young years, when she was still a free young woman, quite in the bloom of her years, and not yet married. He slightly winkled cheeks suddenly gained a sweet shade of pink as the memory of a suave voice -graced with the most charming French accent of all- took over all coherent thoughts. ''Mister Bonnefoy...'' She muttered fondly, giggling a little. She could not care how silly she was being, how inappropriate it was for a married, aged servant to fancy herself in love with a nobleman from a neighbouring kingdom. Indeed she could not care, for what kind of woman culd not be in utter admiration before one so handsome ? Signing dreamily, the servant turneod her attention back on the letter itself. His last visit had been almost a full year ago, and it had been a few months since her master had sent him a letter and had still not yet answered. _Until now_, the woman thought excitedly. What if the man was planing to visit again ? Without further ado, Ingrid walked to the breakfast room in a most rapid pace and knocked on the door.

''Come in.'' A rough, confident voice echoed. Ingrid most dutifully obeyed, bowing respectfully as she entered the room. Five pairs of eyes were now on her, wondering what was so important that their breakfast should be interrupted. Ingrid walked to the eldest of the four brothers present and handed him the letter.

''So that Bonnefoy finally wrote back, huh ? He is quite the cheek to make me wait so long like this.'' The same voice snorted opening the letter. As the man scanned over the letter, blood-red eyes widened in surprised, then frowned deeply. After finishing the letter, the man folded the letter and stared at his plate, seemingly lost in painful memories. After a short, uncomfortable silence, the man regained his self and dismissed the servant.

''Thank you, you may go, Ingrid.'' He said in an abnormally calm voice. Ingrid silently obeyed, knowing better than to pry on the matter when her master was in this state. Another silence followed. The rest of the man's family waited patiently for him to speak up, but seeing as the man stayed stubbornly silent, the youngest brother spoke up.

''What's wrong ?'' A light, but concern voiced rang, green eyes darkened in worry.

''Did something happen to mister Bonnefoy ?'' Another voice said, though much deeper.

''What does the letter say, Gilbert ? Do not let us in suspense like this.'' A third voice came, sounding a little more impatient.

''I will read it to you.'' Red eyes closed for a second. Sighing, the man unfolded the letter once more and began to read it.

''_My dear friend,_

_I must apologize for not writing to you earlier. I hope you and your family is in good health.-_''

''Sounds rather insensitive.'' A voice cut in.

''Or alarmed, Roderich. Let him finish reading the letter.'' The lady replied, soothing her husband's temper with a gentle caress on his hand.

''_The reason I have not written to you earlier is also the object of this letter. Gilbert, I am quite distressed and I implore of you to help me. I am afraid the nature of my issue is such that I'd rather not discuss in written form. I would rather if you, your family and I could me as soon as may be. I would be very glad and grateful if you and your family would do me the honour come visit me in my estate in Paris. Do not be too much alarmed by this letter, my friend, for it is nothing concerning my health, though it will perhaps... no, certainly, it will indeed change the way I am living... I am very sorry for being so vague, but I'd rather not write more details, for who knows in whose hands this may fall... and I will not hide to you, my friend, that it concerns your dear little sister -god bless her soul- young, sweet Lili. _

_I apologize for the suspicious nature of this letter, but as a most faithful friend, I beg you to consider my invitation._

_In hope of seeing you soon,_

_Francis Bonnefoy._''

A long silence followed the lecture of the letter. All of their expressions were grave in the painful memory of their sister now passed away to the other world for nearly seven years, at the very young age of seventeen. All bitterly remembered the circumstances of the sudden death, and all remembered what role Francis Bonnefoy had played in the matter. Finally, a voice spoke up.

''It is indeed quite suspicious... should we really go ?'' Roderich said, ever the careful and objective man.

''But after all he's done for you and your sister...'' His wife trailed off softly, looking to the ground.

''Elizaveta is right.'' Girlbert stated firmly. He trusted Francis more than anyone. ''We should all go, especially if it concerns Lili.'' The brunet couple silently nodded in agreement. Four heads then turned to the youngest brother, who still seemed deeply lost in thought.

''What do you think, Vash ?'' The tallest, yet second youngest brother, Ludwig, asked, his voice careful. Ludwig, knew his younger brother was especially affected by the letter. Vash was, after all, the twin of Lili and had always been most particularly attached to the young girl. While all were deeply hurt by the loss, Vash was the one who seemed to have the most trouble healing. Twins had a link that was so strong, so mysteriously so, and therefore all of the siblings found it extremely hard to go into the matter with him. They watched painfully as their brother's head fell downcast, hiding eyes with his blond bangs. Vash's fists tightened and trembled, as he seemed to try so desperately not to let his emotions burst. Tears fell softly along his cheeks and, unable to be watched like this and unable to get a hold of him, Vash rose from his seat quietly, face still hidden. Not a word was uttered as the blond exited the room. The door closed with an almost ghostly echo. Slow steps could be heard, though they soon died as they went further away from the breakfast room, accompanied by chocked sobs which simply could not be restrained anymore. Husband and wife shared a pain look and their grip linking their hands tightened. No one dared to say anything for the longest while, until Gilbert, the strongest in spirits, broke the heavy silence.

''We should leave as soon as possible.'' He stated simply. ''I will ask the servant to prepare everything so that we leave on the morrow.'' The three others gave him unconvinced looks.

''What about Vash ?'' Elizaveta asked, worrying that the young man might find the trip too sudden and too hard as it would revive so painful a memory.

''I'm sure he will come and agree with these arrangements.'' Gilbert with confidence. ''Especially him.'' _If it concerns Lili, he will not let the matter wait,_ he added to himself, frowning sadly. He felt the same as his brother.

''But should we not write to mister Bonnefoy to inform him of our visit ?'' Ludwig was one for order and wanted things to be proper. IT would not do to leave on such impulse to have the French gentleman overwhelmed by the suddenness of their arrival.

''Knowing Bonnefoy,'' Gilbert started, leading back on his chair casually. ''and judging by his letter,'' He added, glancing toward the folded paper on the table. ''I think he'd rather have us as soon as possible, regardless of the protocol.'' The light-haired man took his fork and dig it angrily in a pork sausage, which he devoured in the second that followed. ''Besides,'' He swallowed the sausage. ''I do not have the patience to wait the two weeks it will take for the letter to reach Bonnefoy and the other two it will take to receive his confirmation. No indeed, we are leaving tomorrow.'' With that, Gilbert rose and walked to the door, making each step unnecessarily heavy -the man liked to be imposing- and opened the door.

''Ingrid !'' He barked ungracefully. As a warrior, Gilbert had always preferred to scream orders to his servants rather than ringing the little bell. It was far more entertaining. ''Come here !''

Roderich sighed deeply, strongly disapproving of his brother's manners. ''He is incorrigible.'' His wife chuckled.

OoOoO

''Would you like some more tea, papa ?'' Matthew asked politely, smiling softly.

''With pleasure, mon lapin.'' Francis nodded, thanking his son as he served him another cup of some fine chinese tea.

''And you, mister Kumajirou ?'' The little boy said, turning to his friend. Francis watched his son fondly as he leaned close to the stuffed animal. The boy nodded eagerly and served his friend another cup. The little boy carefully lifted the porcelain teapot and tilted it only a little, so that no actual liquid would come out of the it. The boy delicately put the teapot down on the table again and then, gently brought the empty teacup to the bear's muzzle, then set it down again. Francis let out a quiet sigh as he looked down to his own cup. He looked at his reflection, though not truly paying attention to it -not doing like he usually did, he did not check if his hair was in the right place nor did he check if cookie crumbs were on his face- no, instead, the man pondered about the letter he had sent two weeks prior to this one. Had it gotten to his friends safely ? Or did his friend perhaps decided that he did not want to come ? _Silly thought,_ Francis scolded himself, _I should not be expecting a reply before next week... _Despite how incoherent his thoughts were, Francis could not help but worry, thus leading to the imminent destruction of his perfectly manicured nails by munching on them nervously. Mathieu, noticing his father's odd behaviour, enquired on his him.

''Are you well, papa ?'' He grabbed the silver plate of butter cookies and handed it to his father. ''There are cookies, if you are hungry.'' Mathieu proposed innocently, misinterpreting the munching of the nails. Francis blinked, then laughed softly, relaxing a little. He was glad his adorable son was there to calm him down.

''Thank you.'' The older man gladly took a cookie and ate it with a loud, happy sound of satisfaction. ''Hmmm.'' Which went not without amusing Mathieu in return. The child giggled and, tempted as he saw his father's reaction, took a cookie as well. He ate it and imitated his father by letting out a loud;

''Hmm !'' Mathieu took another cookie and glued it to bear's muzzle. ''It is delicious, sir, please have one !''

Francis sighed, leaning onto his elbows, cheeks comfortable seated on his hands. Dreamily, Francis observed his son as the latter tried to feed his friend a cookie, all thoughts of his friends completely vanished._ So very adorable..._

Three loud and nervous knocks on the door. They did not seem to brake the young father's musings. ''Come in.'' He said still half in a trance-like state. A maid rushed inside.

''S-sir ! Monsieur Beilschmidt and his family are here !'' The maid informed, almost screaming in utter fright. _Nothing's prepared !_ She added in her mind. Why had they not been informed ?

''Bon Dieu !'' Francis instantly rose from his seat, chair falling behind him, and ran toward the door of the room, only to stop and turn around toward Mathieu, munching on his nails again. Mathieu stayed unmoving, eyes wide with surprise. Francis looked around from left to right rapidly, wondering what to do, then ran back to Mathieu.

''Sir, what shall we do ?'' The maid screamed again, flailing her arms over her head.

Francis took Mathieu in his arms then ran back to the door, only to stop himself in front of the frantic maid. ''You will take care of Mathieu while I-!'' Francis stopped himself, looking to the ground in a pensive manner. ''Wait, non, you should come with me and take care of their luggage...'' He trailed off half to himself. ''Seigneur ! Come with me !'' Both adults ran toward the hall. Mathieu was still so surprised, he did not even open his mouth. On their way down the stairs, they saw Yong Soo. ''Yong Soo !'' Francis cried in relief and quickly ran down to the hallway to join him. ''Take care of Mathieu, will you ?'' He said quickly, handing him the boy. He and the maid quickly ran toward the main entrance, but Francis stopped again, not even three steps made yet. He turn around and gave his son a sloppy, loud kiss on the cheek then finally joined the maid -who had not stopped in her race- to greet the unannounced visitors. Mathieu rubbed his wet cheek with the back of poor Kumajirou's head in childish disgust. He looked up to his friend and teacher, genuinely worried.

''Is something bad happening ?'' He asked.

''It all depends. Did your father or Bernadette say anything ?'' Yong Soo replied, smiling in amusement at the scene that had just occurred. Mathieu pondered for a second and another question came to him.

''Who is monsieur Ble...'' Matthew stopped, finding quite hard to pronounce the name. ''Belshmite ?'' He tried.

''... Beilschmidt ?'' Mathew nodded. _Oh. _Yong Soo thought. _I see._ ''Well,'' he started, walking toward the library -Mathieu still securely wrapped in his arms- for the child's lesson. ''it is both a good and a bad thing.'' Yong Soo said, teeth shining in an almost mischievous way as he smiled.

''What do you mean ?'' Mathieu asked, a little lost.

''Well, monsieur Gilbert Beilschmidt is a very good friend of your father's. However...'' He said as he shifted Mathieu on his arm so that he could open the door with he newly freed one. ''... he has a very bad temper, an over-dimensioned ego and an unpredictability that can lead to catastrophes.'' Yong Soo explained with enthusiasm -which Mathieu did not questioned, already used to the Asian's odd, but fortunately also very enthusiastic, behaviour.

OoOoO

As he walked with his maid, Francis ordered every servant that crossed their path to prepare everything that was necessary for their guests and to warn their coworkers. Soon, the Beilschmidt family came into view in the great entrance hall. Francis leaned a little to adjust his height to Bernadette's and whispered.

''Once they have been greeted and their luggage have been taken care of, go directly to the kitchen and inform the cooks of their arrival. Dinner shall be served at eight.'' Bernadette looked down to her watch; it was two in the afternoon. She nodded.

''Very well, sir.''

The duo stopped themselves in front of the guests and bowed respectfully to them. The Beilschmidt returned the bow with equal courtesy.

''Welcome, my friends. I'm glad to see you here.'' Francis said, trying to hide all traces of anxiousness the best he could. The maid quickly did as instructed and joined the coachmen to tell them where to put the rather large chests.

Gilbert's red eyes sharpened slightly in annoyance. The German made a little grimace; he was not one for such formalities -especially between friends and family- and, with a dismissive gesture, quickly swooped away the tense atmosphere. ''Likewise, likewise.'' He said smugly as he walked to Francis, giving him a firm -but very friendly, of course- grip on the shoulder. ''You've got nerves to make my great self travel all the way here in such a short period of time.'' A wide smirk formed on his lips, showing sharp canine teeth. Behind him, Roderich cleared his throat loudly, wanting to remind his brother of their existence. Gilbert turned to them, surprised to see his siblings looking at him with either annoyed or judgemental eyes. Gilbert blinked. ''What ?'' All siblings sighed in unison, some shaking their head in an exasperated manner. Francis chuckled, grateful for his friend's gesture. He suddenly felt more at ease; he reminded himself that these guests were his most trusted friends and that this would never change. He smiled to his friends and, despite them looking tired from the long trip, looked very well in their colourful, silky clothes. All, except one; Ludwig was, as always, dressed in a simple black robe with the white clerical collar that his profession required him to wear.

''Ever the gloomy one, Ludwig.'' Francis joked.

''I prefer to call it modesty, Bonnefoy.'' The blond replied, not the type to joke around.

''And ever the serious !'' The Frenchman exclaimed, laughing.

OoOoO

Francis and his guests, after the greetings, found themselves in the sitting room in the western AIL of the Bonnefoy Domain. The party first exchanges their most recent accomplishments and events, followed by their old adventures that they shared together; memories and such. The party shared laughter after laughter, until one particular member of the party -the youngest of all- stopped talking all together. He had been getting tired of the silly talk; he wanted to get down to business.

''Hahaha ! Indeed, that was very much amusing. The face that Roderich made-''

''I think we've had enough of this... I would like to know why, exactly, are we here and how it is related to my sister.'' He said, arms and legs crossed, his air GRAVE. An uncomfortable silence followed. The German siblings looked at each other, looking their opinion, and all nodded, agreeing with their youngest brother's words. Francis sighed a little. He understood his friends' worry, though had naively wished to avoid the matter a little longer, even if he knew it was pointless.

''You are right I apologize.'' Francis said calmly. He looked down to his hands nervously, pondering on which words to use and where to start. He looked up again to the Beilschmidt family, then swallowed nervously. ''W-well... you see.'' He closed his eyes for an instance, to calm himself, and started again. ''A littler over three months ago, a woman came to me with a yong child and said that he was my son.''

''That is scandalous, you didn't believe this woman, I hope ?'' Roderich said instantly.

''I did. He truly is my son.'' All were silent and gaping. Francis continued. ''You'll agree once you see him.'' He chuckled lightly, thinking fondly of his son and proud to say that his son looked like him. His smiled faded a little as he thought of what else was left to say. ''He is also the son of a... a WHORE...'' All except Gilbert gasped. Gilbert kept his face neutral; he wasn't entirely surprised -knowing more than anyone else of his friend's not so moral tendencies- and he did not care about ranks and morals enough to find the confession a scandalous thing.

''You cannot be serious !'' Elizaveta exclaimed, absolutely horrified. ''How did this happen ?''

''It's obvious what happened.'' Gilbert snorted. The woman silenced him with an angry slap on the arm. ''Ow ! Why did you do that ?'' He was ignored as everyone turned their attention back to Francis.

''Well... I usually am careful of the woman's... cycle, and take other precautions but-''

''Usually ?'' Ludwig gasped, mortified by how casually the Frenchman spoke of one human's greatest sin. Francis looked to the ground, ashamed. Especially in front of a priest -his friend, no less.

''Yes... a-and I was quite drunk that night -and quite eager- and Jeanne was very beautiful a woman and-'' He cut himself as he saw his friends' expressions, well, except Gilbert again; the man wasn't exactly pure either. ''But I've changed !'' He declared hardheartedly as he rose from his seat. ''I've truly changed... ever since my Mathieu came into my life, everything changed in here...'' He continued as he put his hand over his heart. ''Elizaveta... Roderich... I'm sure you understand...'' He said as he looked over to the couple, who looked at each other painfully. They joined their hands to support each other. ''I've made mistakes and I want to repent for them. I truly do.'' He said now looking at Ludwig, who looked at his cross around his neck. ''I want to make sure Mathieu lives a normal life, a life that a son of a man my rank deserves. But to accomplish that, I need your help.''

''What happened to that woman, the child's mother ?'' Elizaveta asked.

''She died several months ago. She kept Mathieu's existence a secret to me until just recently. It was an acquaintance of hers who brought him to me along with a letter she wrote before dying.''

''...a-and how old is he ?''

''Seven years old.''

''The poor little thing.'' Elizaveta whispered sadly to her husband. There was another silence.

''And how are we supposed to help ?'' Vash asked impatiently, still not getting how his dead sister could be involved. He cared little for the illegitimate child.

''It is risky, but the facts are such that there is no better alternatives for me. For Mathieu is seven years, I have not been involved with society for even longer than that, your family is not known here, so people would not know of the specific circumstances of your sister's death, Ludwig is a priest of influence and lastly... your sister died exactly seven years ago.'' Francis added the last statement with hesitation, fearing his friends reaction. Vash frowned, letting all the facts getting to his brain and analyzing them. He gasped, eyes wide, as he realized what the French had in mind.

''Are you suggesting...'' The rest of the family looked at him with confusion; they had not come to the same conclusion apparently. ''... that Lili should be the mother ?'' They all turned to Francis, incredulous.

''That's exactly what I am suggesting. Ludwig could easily make the marriage papers, as well as Mathieu's birth and baptism papers.'' At this point, even Gilbert could hear no more.

''You are out of your mind, Bonnefoy ! It will never work; there are way too many risks ! How do you expect people to believe you ? Not to mention that if you are going down, you are bringing all of us with you !'' Gilbert growled. ''And this simply to able your child to live in open luxury !'' Francis gritted his teeth, not liking the last statement.

''Of course, the luxury comes with my rank, but that's not the question !'' Francis snapped. ''I want this so that I can openly declare that Mathieu is my son and so that he can live a life without having to hide from the society !'' Francis fell back on his seat with a heavy sight, the whole thing striking to him in a headache. He rubbed his forehead with his head, closing his eyes a bit, then looked at the Germans again. ''Furthermore, people would believe me because it_ is_ me; people know that I am an eccentric man, that I am passionate, excessive, egocentric... the fact that I am so out of the ordinary makes the story believable, because it is me. I am one of the only nobles in the country that would secretly marry a young girl from a foreign country and morn her sudden death by secluding himself for seven whole years !''

''That- !'' Gilbert started, yelling in anger. He stopped himself as he thought it over. ''... is true.'' He continued, calmer this time. The Germans looked at each other. This could actually work.

''Supposing we go through with this...'' Elizaveta started, making it clear in her ton that is was a indeed a supposition. ''... it would make your son legitimate, but the marriage would not be looked upon with a good eye; you seem to forget that we are no nobles.'' Her husband nodded in agreement. Francis smiled at the statement.

''Ha ! Nonsense.'' Francis declared, waving his hand dismissively. ''With Vash that, with his tremendous sense of... economy and investments, brought gold into your pockets in a matter of a few years; Ludwig, a priest of great reputation that wrote sermons and spiritual books that inspires admiration; Roderich who is a great musician and composer, one of the most famed in your country, and with Gilbert who is a respected knight and most trusted by your king himself !'' He turned to Gilbert. ''Didn't you say yourself that you were in your King's good grace ? Where it reached the point that you call him by a pet name ?''

''Yeach, old Fritz !'' Gilbert smirked.

''Indeed, indeed !'' Francis nodded eagerly, then turned to Elizaveta again. ''And you, of course, my beautiful Elizaveta. You are Roderich's wife and a talented opera signer. All those facts force respect on one's opinion of you and your family.'' Francis' smile was now very wide. ''When people would ask of my wife's connections... I would have nothing but good things to tell. On top of all this, it is indeed bad for a noble woman to marry a man of no rank, but for a man to marry a woman of not special social importance; it is not so much of an issue now a days.'' The german family smiled at their friend's speech, genuinely flattered to hear that Francis -a man of high rank- was thinking so highly of them. They trusted his judgement; if he believed that the marriage would be well received, then they would not doubt it. However, the plan was still extremely risky.

''Thank you, Bonnefoy, I always knew we were quite extraordinary, but it is pleasing to hear it from others.'' Gilbert said cheekily, his expression then turned more serious as he stared into the blond French's eyes. ''Though I'm not sure if I'm willing to go through this...'' His siblings nodded in agreement.

''We are grateful for what you did; f-for finding our sister's assassin, but...'' Vash trailed off, it was hard enough for him to even brush the subject, but he also felt guilty. For the Beilschmidt family, ever since the execution of the murderer, had promised themselves they would repay the nobleman when the occasion presented itself. Now that it was there, they weren't sure if they could keep their promise. Francis looked down. He couldn't blame his friends.

''I understand...'' He whispered, inconsolable. The siblings looked at each other guiltily.

''Hey, Bonnefoy, we didn't say no yet...'' Gilbert laughed nervously. ''I believe we need some time to think this through on our own.'' He turned to his siblings. ''We should separate and clear our mind and take our time.'' The rest of the party looked at him wide-eyed. They weren't used to him speaking with such wit. ''What ?'' He barked, annoyed.

''You're right, my friend.'' Francis spoke, regaining some hope. ''Make yourselves at home and take your time. I know this is an important decision. Dinner will be served at eight. You shall also meet my son then.'' He smiled. ''Meeting him will help you make your decision, I'm sure.'' All nodded, and so it was.

OoOoO

''... and so if there were fourteen fish and that monsieur Kumajirou ate six of them, how many fish are left ?'' Yong Soo asked Mathieu.

''Hm...'' Mathieu started counting on his fingers. He lost track of the count; why didn't he have fourteen fingers ? It would be so much easier... He turned his attention to the little drawing that his teacher had made. He hid six of the fish with his hand and counted the remaining ones. ''Eight ?''

''Exactly.'' Yong Soo smiled. He opened his mouth, ready to go over the next exercise, but was unable to as Francis entered the room with a loud sigh. With heavy and sloppy steps -so unlike his normally graceful ones- the man fell on the nearest chair, letting out another sigh. The younger pair blinked. Yong Soo looked down, worried that Francis' idea might have failed. Mathieu took his bear in his arms and, jumping down his chair, quickly went to his father's side. Francis reached down for him and sat him on his lap, hugging him tightly.

''You look tired, papa.'' Mathieu stated with worry, resting his head on his father's shoulder.

''I am...'' Francis said, running his fingers through the boy's fine hair.

''Why ?''

''Well...'' Francis searched for the correct words. He didn't want to explain it to Mathieu until he had the final answer. He didn't even plan on telling him, should the answer be negative. ''I asked for a very, very big favour and I'm not sure if it will be granted. I'm very worried, that's why I'm extenuated.'' He shifted the boy on his lap so that they could be facing. ''What should papa do ?'' He asked kindly. Mathieu tapped his lips with his index, deep in thought.

''Take a nap ?'' Francis chuckled, nodding.

''A very good idea. Would you like to take a nap with your papa ?'' Mathieu nodded eagerly; anything to escape the math lessons. Smiling, Francis got up and exited the room. Mathieu -still in his father's arms- waved goodbye to his teacher. Once the door closed, Yong Soo sighed a little. He looked down to his exercise. He had noticed Mathieu's lack of interest in Mathematics. He pouted. Perhaps if he let Mathieu draw for the exercises...

OoOoO

As soon as Francis entered his room, he kicked off his shoes and took of Mathieu's as well. The man truly noticed for the first time how a child's feet were small and couldn't help but coo and squeal, muttering something about his Mathieu being insupportable adorable. Mathieu blinked; he had not understood what he had done exactly to deserve this, but even though he didn't understand, it wasn't entirely surprising either. He was used to his father's open affection. It had often happened that the boy was doing the simplest things -eating, talking, even just plainly standing- and his father would suddenly find him utterly adorable and hug him and kiss him. Not that Mathieu minded, though. He liked that aspect of his father; it had quickly erased all doubts about his father's love for him since their 'reconciliation'.

And so, after his cheek was bombarded with a series of quick and gentle kisses, Mathieu was snuggled against his father's chest -he then actually realize they were on his father's bed, still dressed and on the bed- and before he could even tell his father to sleep well, the man was already snoring loudly. Mathieu chuckled. _Poor papa,_ he mused, _he really is tired_. Mathieu, though, wasn't tired. He had wanted to escape his lesson, true, but the little boy was also worried about his papa. He thought about what he had told him. _A very big favour..._ He thought. _To mister __Beilschmidt ?_ He asked himself. It must me. Who else would it be ? Mathieu looked up to the sleeping face of his father. _There must be something I can do..._ Mathieu convinced himself. _I have to convince mister Beilschmidt to accept papa's request ! _He didn't know what it was; but Mathieu was far too young and naive to realize that this was quite an important detail to know. Very slowly, Mathieu carefully slipped out of his father's gentle grip. He didn't want to wake the man. Kumajirou in his arms, the child then jumped out of the bed. As he made his way toward the door, Mathieu was startled by incoherent mumblings of his father. He turned to see his father, scared that he might have waken him up. The man seemed to be searching for something in sleep. Mathieu swallowed nervously. He relaxed -and tried his best not to laugh- when he saw Francis grab the nearest cushion and hold it tightly, mumbling something that Mathieu supposed was his name. Turning around, the little child tip toed to the door and exited the room and started to wonder around the domain in look for the famous mister Beilschmidt.

OoOoO

After parting with his family, Ludwig had instantly gone to the only place where he thought might help him make his decision: the prayer room. The room was quite grand, though it did not surprise Ludwig; it wasn't his first time in the room and every nobleman's domain had a room of the kind. Though it was grand, it was also quite simply decorated compared to the rest of the manor. What made the room so charming were the beautiful stained-glass windows. Ludwig had been kneeling in front of them for quite some time now, and it seemed like his case wasn't getting better; the more he thought about the matter, the more confused he was about his duties.

_''What shall I do ?''_ He asked the figure in the window. _''I should be helping the father and his child, it is my duty yo help those in need...''_ He confessed, then looked to the ground. _''...but to forge the papers would be a sin... and putting my own family in danger as well...''_ He put his hand on his forehead, sensing a giant headache coming. He was getting desperate. He looked up to the glass again. _''Please help me... give me a sign, anything will do !'' _He begged.

''E-excuse me, sir...'' A tiny little voice startled Ludwig. The man turned around, his eyes widening at the sight. There, in the doorway, stood a young violet-eyed child whose golden hair waved and curled in a charming manner. The boy was wearing white pants and puffy shirt and a pale beige suit embroidered with golden flowers. Laces and ribbons decorated the clothes as the extravagant -yet tasteful- french fashion would have it. In his arms, the little boy held a snow-white stuffed bear. Ludwig could not believe his eyes. Had a little cherub been sent to help him ? ''Are you monsieur Ble-Beilschmidt ?'' The boy asked timidly. Ludwig could only nod, too awed to even utter a word. The little boy's eyes seemed to brighten up. He walked near him, clutching his bear closer to him, as if it would protect him from any possible danger. As Ludwig got a closer look of the boy, it didn't take him too long to realize that the boy was, in fact, Francis' son. Ludwig smiled a little; he wasn't a real cherub, but perhaps this did not mean that his prayer had not been heard after all.

''What can I do for you, my child ?'' He asked kindly, his accent not too noticeable. The boy blushed and looked down to his feet, shyness getting the better of him. Ludwig could not help but widen his smile. He rose from his kneeling position and took the boy in his arms. Sitting in the nearest chair, the blond man then sat the little boy on his knees and waited patiently for the boy to speak.

''Well...'' The boy started, his voice muffled by the synthetic fur of his bear as his hid his face in it. It had seemed so much easier in his mind. But now that he was in front of the man, the boy had lost all his confidence. He looked up to Ludwig. He blinked as his noticed the clerical collar. The boy loosened up. ''You are a priest ?'' The boy asked, his shyness vanishing for a moment.

''I am.'' Ludwig smiled. Mathieu gladly returned it.

''Maman said you are special. That we can tell you secrets.'' Ludwig flinched slightly at the mention of the child's mother, but quickly relaxed as he heard the rest of the boy's words. He chuckled a bit.

''I wouldn't say 'special', but true, you can tell me anything that is troubling you and I won't tell anyone. I'm here to help.''

''This is wonderful !'' The little boy exclaimed happily. ''Then you will help my papa ?'' Ludwig blinked. Did the child know of his father's plan ? Wasn't he a bit young for that ? To make sure, Ludwig decided to confirm it himself.

''How can I help him ?'' The boy stared, suddenly realizing that he didn't even know what the favour was about.

''I don't know...'' The boy admitted shyly, slightly embarrassed at his own ignorance. Ludwig, though, only smiled more._ I thought so._

''You don't know ?'' Ludwig pried, faking surprise. Matthew shook his head.

''But he said he asked you a very, very big favour.'' Mathieu blushed a little as the next words came. ''He seems sad and worried... so I was hoping that...'' He trailed off.

''You want to see your father happy, so you want me to help. Is that the secret you wanted to tell me ?'' Ludwig asked fondly.

''Oui.'' Mathieu nodded into his bear.

''I see that you love your father very much.'' Mathieu nodded again. Ludwig looked up to the stained-glass windows. Everything was clearer now. He had almost forgotten about how innocent and pure a child was... and that children were worth every sacrifice. He would help the child in any way he could, and if his family did not accept Francis' plan, then he would find another way. He knew it was his duty, and he certainly owed the child's father that. ''Then I will try my best to help him.'' Mathieu stared up at him, eyes sparkling in gratitude.

''Really ?'' Mathieu asked excitedly. ''Thank you so much sir ! Thank you !'' Ludwig chuckled, patting the boy's head affectionately. He had barely met the child, but he could tell that Mathieu had not the slightest bit of malice in him. He really was like a little cherub. ''Yong Soo said you have a very bad temper, a very big ego and that you made bad things happen... but I don't think you are like that at all !'' Mathieu genuinely exclaimed, a very big smile on his lips. Ludwig stared, unblinking, for a long moment. Then, unable to hold it any longer, he burst out in loud laughter. The child tilted his head to the side, not getting what was so funny.

''_Hahaha ! Oh dear brother, haha !_'' The normally solemn man burst out laughing. It was a pity that the child was not aware of how brilliant his words had been. His laughter slowly died into soft chuckles. He put the little boy back on the ground. ''I'm afraid you have the wrong man in front of you, Mathieu.'' Ludwig kindly explained. Mathieu oh'd in genuine surprise.

''You know my name, sir ?'' Mathieu blinked his large curious eyes.

''Your father talks very fondly of you. I could not forget your name even if I wanted to.'' Ludwig chuckled again, seeing the little boy's cheek reddening in embarrassment. ''I believe you are looking for my brother Gilbert.'' He explained kindly. Mathieu oh'd again, his embarrassment doubling. Mathieu whispered a soft apology; Ludwig only shook his head dismissively. ''No offence taken, Mathieu. My name is Ludwig.'' He informed, getting up to stare at the stained-glass again. ''I believe you will find my brother in the garden.'' Mathieu nodded excitedly.

''Thank you, mister Ludwig !''

The clergyman looked as the boy ran out of the room, a fond smile on his features.

OoOoO

Elizaveta and her husband had been walking around the garden for nearly half an hour now, during which not even a word was exchanged. The couple we deep in thought, wondering what to think about the matter and, more than anything, wondering what was their partner's opinion and if it agreed with their own. The matter concerned them in a level that was entirely their own and that only the closest family members knew about. In their walk, one would have nervously looked at the other, trying to decipher in his or her face some kind of clue, some kind of answer, but only confusion was found. When their gazes met, the couple would smile nervously at each other, trying to offer compassion and encouragement. Finally, Roderich invited his wife to sit. Hands joined, the couple stayed silent still. Unconsciously, Elizaveta put her hand on her stomach, rubbing it gently as she thought. Roderich did not fail to notice the gesture; he looked to the side, suddenly feeling ashamed. Perhaps, after all, he knew what his wife thought of this matter. He also knew why his wife did not want to voice her opinion; she was afraid of him. He could not blame her; he had always made it clear that all that he wanted was to live an honourable life; proper and respectable. This matter defied his ideals.

''Excuse me, are you mister Gilbert ?'' Mathieu asked softly, startling the couple. Mathieu could not bring himself to pronounce the strange family name; he hoped he wasn't being too impolite. Mathieu tightened his grip on his bear tightly; the couple was looking at him like he was some kind of strange creature; no doubt that they had not expected his appearance. Elizaveta was the first to regain her senses. She smiled at the child, she could clearly see the resemblance with her friend.

''You must be Mathieu !'' She said cheerfully, her concerns forgotten for now; she had been very eager to meet the boy. When the boy nodded, Elizaveta distanced herself from her husband, tapping the empty space on the bench between them. Mathieu obliged and sat. ''My name is Elizaveta and this is my husband.'' She said, letting her husband the pleasure of introducing himself. Said husband blinked, a little taken aback by the boy's appearance and even more upon realizing he was his friend's very son. Clearing his throat, Roderich regained his composure.

''I am Roderich Beilschmidt. GilbertBeilschmidt is my brother.'' He informed. Elizaveta chuckled at her husband formality; Mathieu was but a child, after all. Mathieu 'oh'ed in understanding. Just how many brothers did this Gilbert have ? ''What business do you have with him, may I ask ?'' Mathieu lowered his gaze, clearly intimidated by the older man. Elizaveta glared at her husband, who instantly felt himself become smaller under the woman's fierce motherly instincts.

''Do not mind him, Mathieu, he is always like that.'' Elizaveta said sweetly, catching the boy's attention. ''But do tell us what you are doing here alone. Are you lost ?'' Mathieu instantly gained cheerfulness as he listened to the pretty lady's soft voice. He turned to her.

''Mister Kumajirou and I are looking for mister Gilbert. Mister Ludwig said we might find him here.'' He said animatedly, showing his polar bear proudly to Elizaveta. She had a hard time not squealing and gushing over the little boy. She patted the bear's fur gently as she introduced herself and shook his paw politely. Being the gentleman that he is, mister Kumajirou kissed the back of the lady's hand gallantly. Unable to stop herself any longer, Elizaveta took the boy in her arms and sat him on her thighs. Roderich simply kept watching, stubbornly staying silent. He drifted his eyes from the sight. He just couldn't bear the sight. Seeing his wife so happy and so beautiful with a child in her arms. He couldn't.

''Mister Gilbert, huh ?'' Elizaveta repeated, chuckling at her own words. It sounded so... it really didn't suit her brother-in-law. Elizavetha started playing with a curly blond lock, a fond smile on her face. Mathieu blushed, looking down shyly. It felt just like when his mother played with his hair. He looked up again and hesitated a bit before finally giving in to his curiosity.

''Do you have children, madame ?'' Elizavetha flinched at the question. She spared a nervous glance at her husband and saw that he was still looking away. Though she could guess how he was feeling very well. She looked down to his hands; his fist clenched so tightly they were trembling. Elizaveta sighed softly. She turned to the child again and offered him a tiny smile.

''No, unfortunately.'' She said simply. Mathieu put a delicate hand on her cheek.

''You look sad.'' He then hugged her tightly. ''I'm sorry.'' Elizaveta hugged back instantly. How jealous she was of Francis right now.

''It seems that my husband and I can't have children.'' She stated simply. Roderich turned to her, a sharp, hurt stare on his face.

''Elizaveta !'' But she ignored him and continued.

''We tried... many times... but it never worked.'' Mathieu blinked, then looked down both sad and confused. He didn't know how exactly children were made; he just knew they were in a woman's belly -he found it quite strange, really- for a while and that -according to what his father had been willing to tell him- it took a whole lot of love. Mathieu never asked if his papa had loved his mother. For some reason, he didn't want to know.

''But papa said it only needs love to grow.'' Roderich stared at the child, who seemed completely oblivious to it.

''Well... it's a little more complicated than that.'' Elizaveta chuckled. Mathieu mused for a second, pouting cutely. He looked down to the lady's belly and gently placed his hand on it.

''Maybe she's shy.'' He nodded to himself, seeming quite convinced of his own statement. ''Don't worry, madame. When she's ready...'' Mathieu trailed off, unsure of how to end his sentence. 'She'll come out', 'She'll grow' ?

The brown haired couple stared at the child, a strange warmth invading their body. Roderich was the first to regain his composure. He smiled and playfully ruffled the boy's hair.

''I believe you will find my brother in whichever places your father hides alcohol, my boy.''

''Really ? Thank you, sir !'' Mathieu brightened up. He got off Elizaveta and waved them goodbye. Mister Kumajirou did the same, of course, and, just like that, off he went. The couple looked at each other. A shy blush suddenly graced their cheeks. The chuckled childishly as they held hands. They had lost all hope long ago, yet the boy had given it back to them so easily...

OoOoO

Mathieu ran inside, Kumajirou crushed against his chest, as if afraid of dropping him. His short breaths were becoming louder and louder. The tiredness took over him at last and he stopped himself in his race. Catching his breath, the boy suddenly realized that he had no idea where he was going. He slapped his forehead -a habit he had taken from his father every time Yong Soo would say something stupid- and sat on the wooden floor. He tapped in a unchanging rhythm on his pouting lips, trying hard to remember where exactly his father hid his wine; the bitter, disgusting wed liquid all adults seemed so fond of. He realized he truly didn't know. Yong Soo just usually brought the bottles to his father. _That's it ! _He thought. _I could ask Yo-_

''Are you Mathieu ?'' Said boy looked up.

''Woah !'' Mathieu fell back on his back, surprised to find a young-looking blond man crawled in front of him, his nose barely inches away from his. When had this man appeared ?

''Everything alright ?'' The man's chuckling voice asked. He extended his arm to help the boy up. The help was gladly accepted by the seven-years-old.

''Thank you, sir... but who are you ?'' He asked, his eyes wide with curiosity. _Is he mister Gil-_

''My name is Vash Beilschmidt and you are Mathieu, yes ?'' He asked a second time. Mathieu stared. Pouting, the boy nodded. Just how many siblings did this Gilbert have ? Vash laughed at the boy's expression. ''Is something the matter ?''

''N-no, thank you, sir.'' Mathieu shook his head hurriedly, a little embarrassed. Vash silently observed the little boy. He had been quite curious about him and now that he was in front of him, he certainly wouldn't miss the occasion to learn more about the boy. With this in mind, Vash sat on the floor directly in front of Mathieu. Mathieu blinked at that. He looked around discretely, looking quite uncomfortable. The stranger, although he didn't seem evil, didn't have such a welcoming aura around him. Now that he thought about it, all the Beilschmidt brothers weren't, at least at first sight, quite the epitome of friendliness. This Vash was no exception. Seeing the child's distressed expression, Vash took the initiative of starting a conversation.

''Why don't you sit down and tell me about yourself.'' As strange at the question sounded, Vash thought he could not think of anything else to say; he wasn't one to beat around the bush. He would ask the boy in his own way;_ Are you worth it ? Do you deserve this sacrifice, the risks ? _

Matthew blinked. He, quite frankly, was too innocent to even think someone would be suspicious of him. He smiled and sat on the ground as well. The man was probably lonely, having such stuck up older brothers. The man wanted a friend.

''Well...'' Matthew started excitedly, playing with mister Kumajirou's paws. What should he say first ? ''I like to draw a lot...'' He looked around aimlessly, as if the walls would tell him the answers. ''I like to read too ! But I don't really know how to read... well, I started, but I'm not very good. I prefer when papa reads for me. I really love papa... and Yong Soo too ! Oh, and this is mister Kumajirou. He's my best friend ! He's not very talkative though, and he's very shy, like me ! I don't like numbers... but I like sweet things, like cake, cookies, pudding, chocolate... Do you like chocolate ? I don't have any with me...'' He trailed off, suddenly craving for chocolate. He wondered if Yong Soo would give him some, even though it was almost time for dinner.

And then Vash suddenly wanted to buy something both exceedingly expensive and useless. As as punishment. A punishment for ever doubting that a child did not deserve any sort of sacrifice or risk. Especially a precious friend's son. He looked so much like his sister, too... Even at seventeen, Lili had stayed that same enthusiastic and lively girl that never failed to warm his heart up. Matthew had that same aura of sweetness and candour which he had always admired in his sister. He knew he was not being rational, he knew he had just met the boy, but he suddenly wanted to protect that aura, that kid. He wanted to protect what he hadn't been able to protect back then... seven years ago... He sighed heavily. It seemed like seeing the boy made the ache in his heart sharper, yet he also knew that this boy could help him getting rid of it once and for all. He got up and extended his hand to the boy. The latter smiled charmingly at the short blond and took the offered hand. Both walked through the mansion -Vash had not resisted the urge to carry the boy securely in his arms- and they were chit chatting like little children. It didn't take long for Vash to be completely enchanted by the little boy.

Soon enough, though, their little walk was interrupted and, for Vash at least, it probably could not have been interrupted in a more unnerving manner.

''Hey ! Who's that little fellow ?'' A low, grunchy voice asked. It was none other than infamous Gilbert's voice. He walked toward the two -again his steps overly heavy- and leaned in close so that he could see Mathieu's face, which revealed itself to be a rather hard task as the boy's shyness kept him from doing so. He would hide his pinkish face against Vash's shoulder. And then, at that moment precisely, Gilbert cooed. If he had not been holding young Mathieu, Vash would have slapped his forehead. He grunted unhappily when Gilbert took Mathieu from him. He was holding him up in the air so that he could get a better view of him, he was holding him like a doll. Vash knew what was coming; he knew his brother, he knew that the man, despite the impression he gives, loved, _adored_ the adorable, the small, the fragile... and really, wasn't Mathieu the very epitome of all these things ?

''Where did you find him ? Can we keep him ?'' Gilbert asked hugging the child closely to his chest. Mathieu felt it was safer to stay silent. His hands now free, Vash most eagerly slapped his forehead.

''Gilbert... this is Mathieu, Francis' child. So no, we can't keep him.'' He stated exasperatedly. Mathieu blinked.

''...M-mister Gilbert Beilschmidt ?'' He asked hesitantly. Gilbert's smiled widened and his eyes seemed to sparkle. It was quite the sight.

''Aw, you know my name ?'' He asked cheerfully, his tone contrasting with his almost constantly grumpy-sounding voice.

''Y-yes...'' Mathieu continued shyly. Now that he had the man in front of him, his confidence seemed to lessen. ''I, hm... I had something to ask you-'' He barely had time to finished the albino was already cried out in excitement.

''-anything you want ! You can ask anything you want !'' Mathieu blinked. The man was not at all like Yong Soo had described him. Although, he granted, the man did seem to be quite unpredictable indeed. Though he didn't have a bad temper at all ! He seemed quite amiable ! Mathieu smiled cheerfully, which only made Gilbert coo louder (and Vash slap himself harder).

''Well...'' Mathieu started, using his innocence and charm to his advantage as he pouted cutely. ''I was wondering if you'd help papa-'' Again, no more words were needed for Gilbert to answer.

''Yesyesyes, I know exactly what you mean. Of course we will, won't we, Vash ?'' He asked suddenly sounded a lot more... threatening when he addressed himself to his youngest brother. Said blond stared at him, a little taken aback. He speared Mathieu a quick glance -who was blinking at him- then sighed a little, smiling.

''We shall indeed.''

OoOoO

After much happy and grateful hugs and kisses exchanges between Mathieu and Gilbert -and surprisingly enough, Vash as well- Mathieu went straight back to his father's room, hoping to finding him still asleep. He was glad to see that it was indeed the case and so, tip toing his way back to the bed, Mathieu climbed onto it and snuggled back into his father's embrace. He fell asleep almost immediately; he was quite a bit tired after his little adventure. Unfortunately for him, time seemed to pass much to fast as he was waken up by his father's soft voice. It was apparently already time for dinner. Half-asleep, the blond child let his father help him change and get him ready for this special occasion, as his father put it.

''I have some people I want you to meet.'' His father explained, seemed a little nervous. Mathieu felt a little guilty for not telling his father, but he figured it would made a good surprise.

''Really ? Your friends ?'' Mathieu asked innocently, letting his father pamper him up as he wanted his son to look 'as adorable as ever'.

''Yes. We all have some very important things to discuss together.'' Francis patiently explained, adjusting a little white ribbon in his son's blond curls. He was quite sure that his friend would be unable to resist to his little angel's charms.

Preparations finally all taken care of, father and son went down to the grand dinning room where they would wait for their guests. Mathieu was awed to see the room. Although he had visited the entire domain with Yong Soo, it was their first time dinning there. Yong Soo had explained to him that this room -much bigger than their usual one which, Mathieu thought, was already quite grand- was used only when guests came over. Mathieu also noticed with further astonishment that the silverware and the overall setting of the table was much more luxurious and elaborate than usual.

Mathieu was suddenly brought out of his musings by a maid who entered the room, bowing to them.

''The Beilschmidts, sir.''

''Very well, let them in, of course.'' Francis smiled, picking Mathieu up in his arms. The german family entered all seeming in very good humour. They smiled brightly when they saw Mathieu. Francis seemed to take this as a good sing.

''This is my son, Mathieu.'' He said, walking towards his friends.

''Yeah, we know.'' Gilbert smirked, stealing the boy away from his father.

''Hey ! A-and what do you mean, you know ?'' He said irritably at the loss of his son.

''We all met him already.'' Gilbert explained smugly, petting Mathieu's hair and ignoring Elizaveta's jealous remarks regarding the boy.

''What ? When ?'' Francis asked dumbfounded. The only moment they could have met was... he looked at Mathieu who, when meeting his father's surprised gaze, quickly shied away, hiding his face in Gilber's ruffles.

''Does it really matter ?'' Gilbert said impatiently. ''What matters is that I-we, we will help you !'' He exclaimed, ignoring his siblings' glares at his mistake. Francis, on the other hand, was speechless.

''Y-you... ?'' He said, unable to keep his lips from trembling, truly moved by the news.

''Yeah.'' Gilbert smiled, tapping his friend's shoulder. ''Your little boy here managed to convinced us. Wasn't a very hard deed to accomplish, was it Mathieu ?'' He asked the boy. Mathieu only smiled back shyly in response. Gilbert gave the child back to his father. Francis hugged him tightly against him, kissing head hair tenderly. He looked back at his smiling friends, eyes watery.

''Thank you.''

''No tears, now, my friend. That is not very manly.'' Gilbert teased, not one for emotional scenes. Francis chuckled, nodding. ''Now, will we stand here forever or will you actually feed us, Bonnefoy ?'' All laughed and gathered around the table.

The first course was served; it was a beautiful assortment of a various selection of cheese and patés de fois gras. The bread was freshly made and still a little warm. Francis had asked for their best wine in stock; it was a happy event; it had ought to be celebrated accordingly ! Even Mathieu took a bit of wine. The little boy, however, didn't seem to be enjoying the taste as much as his father and his friends. The boy had a hard time finishing the second course as there was so much food on the table. It was a shame, really, for Mathieu had never tasted a cream of mushroom of this quality. But then again, every time he ate since he came into his father's castle, it had seemed to him like every meal had been the best he had ever eaten. His father's friends expressions seemed to be expressing the same thing. The Beilschmidts, although quite wealthy, did not have the fortune of having such an excellent french cook like Francis did. After finishing his plate and having no more of an appetite, Mathieu walked over to his father and went to sit on his lap. Francis chuckled at that; indeed it wasn't very practical to eat like this, but he was too happy to care at the moment. Plus, the little blond seemed much happier to sit with him and it was simply adorable to see Mathieu happily butter his bread for him even though he hadn't asked him to. It was less boring for him, he supposed -and more comfortable- as there was still six other courses to come. He smiled down at his son and kissed the top of his head tenderly. His smiled saddened when his gaze met Elizaveta's longing one. It quickly disappeared when Mathieu started to chat happily about his discovery of a little squirrel in the garden the other day.

After a short, comfortable silence, Mathieu finally gathered up the courage to ask the infamous question.

''What do you need help for papa ?'' He asked innocently. He still didn't know what all this was about. Mathieu blinked when all the adults exchanged wary gazes, wondering how they should explain the situation to the boy.

''Our society...'' Ludwig started carefully. ''...is corrupted in its values. Therefore, it is imperative that-''

''...Ludwig, you are not reciting one of your sermons right now. And this child probably did not understand half of what you just said.'' Elizaveta scolded, though her tone was light and teasing. She turned to the still-blinking little boy and tried her own way.

''You see, Mathieu, it is like flowers and bees. When-''

''Enough ! No need to go into details !'' Francis cut off, flustered. What were they thinking, explaining such things to his pure little angel ? ''Mathieu, as you know, your mother and I were not married...'' He started calmly, hoping he would not hurt the boy by mentioning his mother. The boy, fortunately, seemed to be taking in this well as he simply nodded in acknowledgement. ''If you want to be well-received in our society... get a good education, be treated well, get a respectable income... you must be married before having children.'' Mathieu nodded again, lowering his head as if ashamed.

''You are not treated well, papa ?'' He asked, his tone guilty and sad. Francis smiled at his child, cupping the chubby cheek with one hand, caressing it tenderly.

''If I am, that would be my own fault, mon lapin.'' He sighed a little, wondering what he should say next. ''But I'm afraid that you won't because of me...'' Mathieu cocked his head to the side, not quite understanding what his father meant. Francis glanced at his guests, silently begging for help. But they, too, seemed at lost of words. He decided to explain how things truly were as simply as possible... careful not to mention certain details about his mother's life. ''Because I did not marry your mother, that would not make me a respectable father... and therefore, people would not see you as a respectable son.''

''But papa is the best papa in the world !'' Mathieu protested with conviction that brought a smile to Francis' face.

''Thank you, Mathieu.'' He said, kissing him softly on the cheek. ''But people are not kind and understanding like you, mon petit ange.'' He explained, chuckling somewhat bitterly. How he hated his society sometimes, and how he hated himself for not being any better than them... but he knew that Francis needed that poisoned society to get Mathieu a better lifestyle, as ironic as it sounded. ''They wouldn't be able to see those quality in you... they would be full of prejudices.''

''What does prejudices mean ?'' Taking them off guard, he made the whole room laugh. Mathieu blushed, suddenly feeling a little shy and embarrassed.

''It when you have an opinion about something or someone before getting to know them.'' Elizaveta explained kindly, earning a shy 'thank you' from the boy.

''My friends here...'' Francis continued. ''... are here to help me getting marriage papers, so that I can make people believe I was married.'' Mathieu blinked in confusion again.

''Isn't it like lying ?'' He asked, sounding quite astonish. ''You told me it's bad to lie.'' He pouted childishly. How come his father could lie and not him ?

''Sometimes... you are allowed to lie, Mathieu.'' Francis smiled. ''You are allowed to lie if it's to protect someone you love. In this case...'' He trailed off, petting his son's hair gently. ''I want to protect you. I want to protect you from those bad prejudices.'' Mathieu said nothing, but his gentle smiled told Francis he understood what he meant. ''But only in this case you can lie, you hear me ?'' Francis added sternly, though keeping his smile on. Mathieu nodded. Another question came to him.

''But how can you lie-marry maman ? She's... not here anymore.'' Francis swallowed hard, glancing nervously at his friends.

''We used to have a sister, he name was Lili...'' Everyone turned to Vash. ''She died seven years ago. She's going to be your mother.'' He stated simply. Mathieu turned back to his father, a worried and confused frown on his delicate features. He didn't speak for a long time. It didn't make sense at all. All this, it didn't make sense.

''B-but... why ? Why not maman then ? If that lady is gone too... it won't work, right ?'' He voice was quivering. He couldn't explain it, but he was hurt and scared. Why all this ? Francis' throat tightened painfully at the sight. He could see his friends were getting anxious as well. How could he explain to this child that his mother...

''What your mother did for a living, Mathieu...'' Ludwig spoke up, choosing his words carefully. ''Wasn't right-'' He was cut by a sharp kick on his shin by Elizaveta. He closed his mouth tightly.

''Wasn't right ? But she told me...'' Mathieu sniffed. ''She told me she made people feel better...'' Tears started to form in his eyes. He remembered the times his mother would leave with men... strangers. She would come back tired, sad... every time he would ask, she would just tell him that. That she had made the man feel better. He had always known yet always denied that what his mother did... rather, what those men did... His mother wasn't making them feel better. In fact, _they_ were just making his mother feel bad.

''Mathieu...'' Francis hated himself even more... He despised himself. He was finally realizing that men like him... He was finally realizing that Mathieu hadn't been the only one suffering. His mother too. He had never cared for these women before... some of them had chose this, were dirty, vulgar... but some had been forced into this, some had no way to escape.

''Non ! I don't want another maman !'' Mathieu cried out, struggling out of his father's grip and pushed him away. He fell onto the floor as Francis hadn't been able to catch him in time. Ignoring the pain, Mathieu quickly got up and ran out of the dinning room.

''Mathieu ! Wait ! Please !'' Francis cried, panicked. He quickly got up as well and ran after him. All the others followed him, dinner completely forgotten. Mathieu was a fast runner. He was also quite small and could hide easily. Before long, the young blond had managed to fool everyone. They had completely lost his trace. It didn't help that the castle was quite grand.

''Quel enfer...'' Francis cursed under his breath. He turned toward his guests, sighing heavily. ''I'm sorry about this...''

''No, don't be. It's an understandable reaction... especially for a child so young.'' Elizaveta said calmly, patting his shoulder. ''Let's separate and find him...'' She suggested to the others.

''I'll go find Yong Soo, then...'' Francis said. Maybe the Asian knew where Mathieu would hide.

OoOoO

Mathieu stared at the white sheet of paper in front of him. In his small hand, he held a thin piece of charcoal. He slowly put it on the paper and slowly made a single line. He stared at it. What did they mean, what his mother did was not right ? Why did he need a new mother ? Why had her mother died ? Why did she have to die ?

''Who is my mother ?'' Mathieu whispered in a soft, broken voice. He traced another line. He closed his eyes. He remembered his mother. He remembered what she looked like... distorted, blurry, so different from his new world... He opened his eyes again, resuming his drawing. Each stroke of charcoal became faster, angrier... Tears were flowing down Mathieu's cheeks. ''My mother's name is Jeanne.'' He assured himself. He sobbed as he drew, as he drew what he had always seen as his mother. He dropped the charcoal once he was finished and again, just started at the now dark sheet. He chocked on his sobs. This was his mother ? No... what did she really look like ? He trailed a finger softly along what looked like the roundness of a cheek, smudging the lines as he did so... not that it really mattered; it didn't make much difference compared to the portrait... He then brought the finger to his glasses. Now that he could _see_, was this portrait what 'prejudices' would make her mother look like to _others_ ? Something so different from what _others_ are used to... It would be scary to them. Tears fell onto the drawing, smudging even more here and there. ''Maman...'' Mathieu whispered ''I want to see you so much...''. He put both his hands on his glasses. They were trembling. If he took of his glasses, would it make some kind of reversing effect ? Would it make his mother look like what she would have looked like in this world ? Hopeful, Mathieu slowly took them off. He was almost scared to see. What he was seeing now, was his mother, the one he at looked at all his life. What would she look like ?

As he took of the glasses, Mathieu's last bit of hope disappeared. Everything around him was blurry, different... the portrait was even more distorted and _wrong_. It was so misshaped that all semblance of humanity that had been there was gone. His mother had just disappeared. Again. He clenched his eyes close tightly and tore his glasses apart, throwing them far away from him. He covered his face with his hands and muffled his cries.

''M-ma- maman...''

OoOoO

It had almost been an hour and they still had not found the little boy. Francis was getting desperate. He was so worried he feared he would break down any moment. It seemed like he had just gotten Mathieu to love him and now, he felt like he had ruined everything. He had started his second round around his castle... he was standing in front of Mathieu's room. It was probably too obvious a place to hide, but he was hoping to find the boy there. Breathing in deeply and holding it in, he reached the doorknob with his hands. He stayed there, frozen. He could hear something. Leaning in, Francis listened carefully. He could hear him. He could hear his son, sobbing and calling for his mother. Francis' heart clenched painfully. He slowly, quietly opened the door. He could feel his eyes starting to burn at the heartbreaking sight in front of him. The poor child's face was dark from the charcoal on his fingers, his skin was red and wet from the tears and his cheeks puffy from the crying. He looked to pitiful and sad that Francis could feel his knees weaken, as if it was too much to bear.

''Maman...'' The boy kept calling.

Francis walked to the boy, kneeling beside him. He knew his son was aware of his presence, buy the boy did not pay him heed. It was then that Francis saw what was on the paper. He frowned, wondering where Mathieu could have gotten the inspiration to draw such dark, gloomy creature. His eyes fell on the bottom of the page where six letters were written.

Jeanne

Francis' throat tightened painfully. If this was how Mathieu had seen the world... he saw the broken glasses lying pitifully on the floor. He turned to Mathieu and gently took him in his arms. He wanted to squeeze him between his arms, to make him feel how much he loved him, but he decided not to succumb to himself. Instead, he kept his embrace tender, gentle, almost delicate. He covered the boy's face with kisses so soft, they felt like feathers to the boy. At first, Mathieu stubbornly ignored his father, keeping his eyes shut and sobs loud. But the more kisses his father was giving him, the sweeter his words got, the more he found himself abandoning himself into the other's arms, until finally, he calmed down. He breathing evened and he felt himself grow tired.

''Look at me, Mathieu...'' Francis said, cupping the child's cheeks in his hands. Mathieu shook his head, keeping his eyes shut still.

''I don't want to see.'' He explained. Francis understood.

Getting up, Francis kept Mathieu tightly in his arms as he walked over to the drawer and opened it. Inside was a pretty wooden box. He opened it, revealing the second pair of classes he had ordered. Francis was glad for having done so. He would order another one tomorrow. He took the glasses in his hand and carefully put them on Mathieu's nose.

''Look at me.'' He repeated. Mathieu stayed silent for a moment then slowly opened his eyes. They were so sad and tired. Opposite to what Francis was used to see; innocence, candour, liveliness... ''By no means am I asking you to forget about your mother, Mathieu. She is your mother and it will never change.'' He said softly, brushing a few golden strands away from the boy's face. ''There are things that I can't tell you... not now. But what my friends and I are doing... it's for your own good and I know...'' He hesitated for a second. ''I know that your mother would agree with this and be grateful.'' At this, Mathieu's eyes watered again, but he refused to let his tears flow. If his father said so, he was sure it was the truth. He buried his nose in his father's neck and closed his eyes, shoulders shaking as he tried not to cry. Francis rubbed the boy's back smoothly for a long time, gently rocking him back and forth in his arms. Finally, he felt Mathieu's breathing even. He was asleep. Carefully removing a few unnecessary layers of clothing, Francis left only his shirt and pants on so that the boy could sleep more comfortably. He then took his handkerchief and, wetting it with the water jar on the table, washed the boy's face and hands. He tucked them in his bed and kissed his forehead. Before exiting the room, Francis took the broken glasses with him so that he could dispose of them. He closed the curtains and left the room, sighing heavily. He truly wished his son didn't have to go through this...

OoOoO

''Is he feeling alright now ?'' Elizaveta asked worriedly after Francis had explained what happened. All -including Yong Soo- were now sitting in the west music room.

''Yes... he fell asleep after that. He seemed to have understood the situation.'' Francis said tiredly. All his energy had been drained after this evening's events.

''Hav you told him about his mother ?'' Yong Soo asked sceptically. Francis shook his head.

''No, he's too young for that. I told him I would tell him when his is older...'' _He'll be wondering what his mother has done for the years to come... _Yong Soo thought sadly. _What a torment for a child so young._ Francis looked at everyone and smiled. It was tired, but honest. ''Thank you for all you have done for him.''

''It's the least we could do.'' Gilbert said. Everyone agreed, nodding their heads.

After a short comfortable silence, all debated on how they would proceed to legalize Mathieu's birth without it looking too suspicious and, of course, without getting caught in the process. It was agreed that they should make it so that Francis' and Lili's supposed marriage had been a secret one; they would had been married by Ludwig himself and it had occurred in Germany. Only close family members had been present. Francis could easily justify this secret marriage to the french nobility by saying he was afraid of being criticized since the Beilschmidts were no nobles and that, seven years ago, the german family hadn't made themselves stand out in society as they were now. For seven years ago, they had still been a poor family without importance, and it was quite true. It was a wonder Francis knew the family at all. Francis smiled fondly at the memory. It had been a little over nine years ago. He had been on a trip to Germany and had been in a local tavern in a small village. He had been dressed as a commoner as not to stand out from the crowd. There, he had met Gilbert. The two had became friends over beer and games of cards; Gilbert had cheated and had won most of Francis pocket money back then. It truly was a fond memory.

They then agreed that Lili's fake cause of death should be childbirth. Her murder had been a dark affair and the family had made sure that the matter had stayed in the dark for that reason; they didn't want to make their poor sister's fate known to people. The girl had actually been murdered by an enemy of Gilbert's -Gilbert still to this day blamed himself for his sister's death, but he always kept quiet about the matter- an officer in the german army that had been jealous of Gilbert's fast rising in the ranks. Gilbert had mocked him... the man hadn't liked that. It was thanks to Francis' fortune and relations that they had been able to catch the criminal before he killed the others. Francis had hired the best detective in the whole country. He had also been quite 'persuasive' when he had questioned the officer that had been close to the man.

The hardest part was to make people believe that Francis had been so devastated by the death of his wife that he had hid himself and the child from society for seven long years.

''As I have explained to Yong Soo already...'' Francis started, pausing to take a sip from his glass of wine. ''I've always been the egocentric type... but I think you know this already.'' He smirked. ''I already had a reputation well-established seven years ago. My long absence only proves it. I stopped attending those boring parties as soon as my parents died; there weren't anyone to force me to go. If anything, I could even add the morning of my progenitors on top of Lili's to make the story more credible.''

''I suppose it's true. Then if people ask why you have decided to reappear only now...'' Vash trailed off, wondering what the reason could be.

''Easy. You'll barely have to lie for this one.'' Yong Soo said. ''You have now recovered from your loved ones' death, your wife's situation is no longer shameful and you wish to introduce your soon to the society so that he, too, may move on.'' He offered simple. Everyone nodded, approving the idea.

''Fair enough, fair enough, but there is still one detail that hasn't been settled.'' Roderich said, sounding strangely confident.

''Oh ? And what may this be, my dear husband ?'' Elizaveta asked, chuckling. It was rare to see Roderich in a teasing mood.

''Mathieu's godparents.'' He said, chin high. Francis blinked. ''But that shouldn't be hard to decide.'' He took Elizaveta's hand in his. ''For I think it is obvious it should be Elizaveta and I.''

''What ? No ! Francis 'married' my twin sister ! I should be the godfather !'' Vash contested.

''But he wouldn't have a godmother !''

''Like we care about-''

''Seeing as I am clearly the most virtuous of the family,'' Ludwig cut in in his deep, powerful voice. ''I think it is only natural that I should be the godfather.'' Yong Soo's brows twitched. He frowned deeply in annoyance. _If anyone here should be Mathieu's godfather, it's me !_ He cried out in his mind. But he knew much too well that it was absolutely impossible, seeing as he was but a mere servant.

''But that's-''

''Kesesesese.'' Everyone turned to Gilbert.

''What's so funny ?'' Vash asked loudly, annoyed by his brother's idiotic laughter.

''You, my dear siblings, seem to be forgetting something...'' He said, laughing loudly. ''There is a natural order to follow to decide of that. Since both our and Bonnefoy' parents are gone and that he has no siblings-''

''Wha-''

''-And me being the eldest brother, I, Gilbert the Awesome, shall be the godfather.''

''What ?'' His siblings cried out.

''You ? No way ! You're not fit for the role !'' Ludwig protested.

Both Francis and Yong Soo sighed heavily. The fight went on and on, until the germans forced Francis into making a choice. He swallowed hard. He knew he was probably going to regret it later -especially if the siblings decided to evacuate their rage on him- but he decided that Gilbert should indeed be the godfather 'as tradition would have it' as he explained. Heated protests followed from the younger Germans and, after much fighting and menaces, they all went to bed. Francis and Yong Soo stayed behind, enjoying the quietness for a while.

''It looks like all will be well after all...'' Yong Soo smiled.

''Indeed.'' Francis gladly mirrored the smile.

OoOoO

Two months had passed since the Beilschmidts had left the Bonnefoy estate. It was only one month later that Francis got the confirmation from Ludwig -though a letter attached to the official papers- that all administrative details had been taken care of. Of course, all of Francis' servants had been informed of the situation and had all sworn they would play along for Mathieu's sake. For the occasion, Gilbert, as the godfather, had send several presents to Mathieu. A letter later arrived from Elizaveta stating that Gilbert had actually just stole the presents the rest of the family had gotten for Mathieu and had all sent them together with his own saying they were all from him. Francis had laughed so loud, reading the letter. It was so typical of Gilbert.

For the past weeks now, Francis had been looking for the best teachers he could find for his little prince and writing to them. Most of them had replied with a positive answer. It wouldn't take much more teaching from Yong Soo for Mathieu to reach the level where he would finally be able to go further in his education. Barely a few more weeks passed and Mathieu was indeed ready. Tomorrow would be Mathieu's first lesson, but Francis wanted to keep the subject a surprise for the boy. Said boy was so excited he could barely stay in place. Francis smiled fondly as he looked at him playing around in his study with the toys he had gotten from his new aunt and uncles -he had personally wrote back to thank them, which had made the Germans beyond happy- humming happily.

Francis, however, couldn't help but think back at the dreadful evening... he still remembered the horrid portrait of the boy's mother. He felt guilty. He found it unfair that he actually knew what his mother looked like while Mathieu had absolutely no idea...

''Wait... that's it !'' Francis cried out, an idea suddenly popping in his head.

''Hm ?'' Mathieu blinked innocently. ''What's the matter, papa ?''

''I have an idea... it's going to be hard, mon coeur, but we shall try !''

''Try what, papa ?'' Mathieu asked, even more confused.

''To draw your mother's portrait.'' Francis smiled. Mathieu seemed to flinched at that. Francis got up from his desk -on which he had been writing to one of Mathieu's teachers- and took the boy in his arms. ''Don't worry, Mathieu, you'll do well, I'm sure.''

OoOoO

''...yes, like this... now, if I remember correctly...'' Francis pondered as he looked at the basic and minimalist sketching of a woman's face on the canvas. ''... her nose was slightly higher from her lips.'' Mathieu nodded and erased the nose. ''And make it a little thinner too.'' Francis added. Mathieu nodded again, resuming his sketching. Francis closed his eyes, trying very hard to remember that face from seven years ago. It was especially hard considering that it had only been one night and that Francis had seen many more women before and after Jeanne... but he was blessed with a very good memory. Especially when it came to pretty faces. He was a bit ashamed, however, to remember more of the woman's generous curves than the actual face... Fortunately, despite the uncanny resemblance father and son shared, Mathieu truly did look like his mother as well. It really helped.

''Like this ?''

''Yes, like this.'' Francis smiled. He then took the small mirror off the little table beside the easel and held it in front of Mathieu so that he could see himself. ''See the curve of your ears ?'' He said, brushing the hair away from one of the blond's ears. ''I'm fairly sure it's your mother's. Mine isn't like that.'' Mathieu's smile was so happy Francis thought it must have hurt. The boy seemed happier and happier every time his father pointed out something he shared with his mother, even silliest thing.

It took many hours to finish the sketch, but fortunately, applying the colour was much faster, as Mathieu remembered the exact shade of brown her mother's hair and eyes had been. His vision had not been good, but he could see the colours just as clearly as anyone else.

After that first draft of his mother's portrait -which had made, once more, his father astonished by the boy's talent considering his age- the boy would come up with more questions to make the drawing even more detailed. Some such as if his mother had any freckles, where they were... Francis was quite sorry to be unable to answer most of them, but Mathieu was much too happy about the results so far to be upset about it.

When finished, Mathieu had spent hours just looking at the sketch. It was a very moving sight for every one in the estate. It had a very bitter taste to it; so happy but pitying at the same time...

Mathieu made many more portraits of his mother with his father's help. In different angles, different situations, different emotions... each time perfecting his style, little by little. Francis would later realize that it was during that particular period that Mathieu made most progress with his skills in arts. He had never seen the boy draw with so much passion.

* * *

**AN:  
**CRISS I took sooo long posting this... The main obstacle was Vash's meeting with Mathieu. I had this ridiculous writer's block for that part in particular... I'm sorry if it sucks, I know it does, but I really couldn't come up with something less sappy and less unoriginal lol... ANYWAYS !

**THIS CHAPTER IS THE LAST OF PART ONE !**

Yes, you've read correctly lol. When I wrote the last line, I felt it was a good place for the first part of the fic to end. I hope I'm right lol What do you think ?

Also, If you're wondering about Mathieu ever growing up or his teachers, I was thinking about doing this in the second part. I think it would be more appropriate this way as part one's focus was on Mathieu's relationship with Francis while part two is about his growing into a young adult and everything...

I hope you enjoyed this chapter ! And all the chapters before that too, actually ! Lol

I hope to see you all in part two ! Hopefully it won't take as long to update; I'm quite inspired for part two !

**THANK YOU AND PLEASE REVIEW !**


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